Professor Uchiha
by Mistress DragonFlame
Summary: /Sequel/ Dumbledore had thought he had seen the last of the young ANBU captain when he left the castle at the end of Harry's third year. Apparently, he was wrong. /Crossover with HP/
1. Chapter 1 : A New Begining

**Title** – Professor Uchiha**  
Rating** – PG-13**  
Pairings** – No real pairings, only hint of pairings.**  
Summary** – Dumbledore had thought he had seen the last of the young ANBU captain when he left the castle at the end of Harry's third year. Apparently, he was wrong.**  
Author **– Mistress DragonFlame**  
Notes** – This story is going to be a shit-load less Harry Potter story-line centric, as my other one was, and have a bunch more angst. What happened in the fourth book will be left to your imagination for the most part. Most of it stayed the same (Quidditch World Cup, Triwizard Tournament, fake Mad Eye Moony, Cedric dying, etc) but with a few key differences—someone other then Peter is helping Voldemort, Sirius didn't hide out in the cave and is properly fed, etc. This will be brought into light in this story, and will affect it as well.

WARNING! This story combines three books, all the way to the Deathly Hallows. So that means there will be NO SEQUEL and there will be SPOILERS!

**Update: 14 Jan 2012**; With the end of the world approaching, I've decided to make it my goal to finish this story. Also, everyone welcome my beta **Aldedron**. She was geek enough to go off and beta this work all on her own, just because.

**XXXXX**

Dumbledore frowned again at the letter as he paced his study absently, a fire burning merrily in the hearth even though it was the middle of July. Apparently, due to the end... event of the last Triwizard test and the lack of 'qualified' (meaning not Lupin, who was supposed to come back this year) people signed up for the job, the ministry will be providing his new Dark Arts teacher—whether he likes it or not. They had been trying their best to stamp out him and his new, budding Order of the Phoenix, the same one trying to warn and prepare people for the rise of the Dark Lord. And they had been doing a damn well good job of it, making the Dark Lord's return all the more serious.

He sighed wearily, letting his hand drop, making the paper flutter slightly in his grip. There was no way around it. He had to let _her_ become his new teacher. Why couldn't the ministry realize this was only harming them? How could he handle their meddling ways, as well as the Dark Lord, not to mention finish grooming Harry to become what was foretold since before his birth? He needed more time, or fewer problems, but neither seemed at hand.

The old wizard glared bitterly at the cackling fire, his office's only light source. Of the two of them, it was by far more cheerful, more then it had a right to be.

The Headmaster weaved past his tall, plush guest seat and his large wooden desk, sitting heavily in his own chair. The many light, and not so light, snores of the past headmasters sleeping in their frames filled the room with a dull, even drone, blurring into the background. He was looking at the paper again, not really reading it, when something dark caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

He jumped violently at the figure that had somehow appeared in the seat across from him, having somehow passed the wards that surrounded the office. Wards that were older then Dumbledore himself, never before failing to notify the current Headmaster when someone approached the room from any and every possible location. He swallowed and breathed deeply to calm down. For one of _his_ kind, it was child's play to break in—and he proved it, because Dumbledore knew him to be no older then fifteen.

He wore his ANBU uniform, but it was dirty, scratched, and dried blood was caked onto one side, staining the usual bone-white vest a dull brown. His usually cared for hair was matted with clumps of dirt, sweat, twigs, and was very oily, hanging limply in front of his face and throwing his eyes in shadows. A gloved hand was fisted and was against the youth's head at his brow, leaning to rest on the armrest while the other arm was draped carelessly over a propped up knee. He was in a carefree pose, but Dumbledore prepared himself for an attack he knew he couldn't defend against. Uchiha Itachi was not supposed to be here, and the old wizard highly doubted the Sandaime would send him here unexpectedly for a friendly check up, barring the state of his clothes. But what did he do to suddenly gain the wrath of the Hokage? ...Or had something gone _terribly_ wrong in Konoha? Thoughts began to rise in the old wizard's head, terrifying thoughts of what Voldemort could—_would_—do if given access to the other plan of existence.

"_Itachi-san? What are you doing here?_" He asked, not attempting to hide his alarm from his voice.

"I'm not here to kill you," Itachi replied in his slightly accented speech, not moving an inch any which way, nor giving anything away in the tone of his voice. "Nor am I here to warn you, or seek to gain your battle prowess."

"Then..." Dumbledore frowned slightly, switching to English at Itachi's subtle hint. "What does the _Sandaime_ want?"

"He doesn't know I'm here." The ANBU's voice was dead, but it dulled the fright of his appearance and the confusion of it sharpened. He wasn't going to attack, the Hokage wasn't angered with him, and he wasn't here to warn him. Voldemort surely would have been cause for a warning from the ninja village, so as it was, the connection point remained unknown to the Dark Wizard. He heaved a relieved sigh at the news before turning back to the matter at hand.

"Then..." He trailed off, not knowing how to continue. He was pretty certain that Sarutobi had discussed it with him at one point, that all of the ninja under his control—the more powerful they were, the tighter the control was—never went anywhere outside of Konoha without permission. To do so was treason.

"I'm here for... personal reasons. I want you to do me a favor," The boy seemed to deflate at his admission, giving the impression he was... beaten, in a way. But what would make such a strong, self-assured young man become so defeated?

Still, his worry for the boy aside, it was treacherous ground he was walking and he could not risk angering the Hokage by hiding one of his stray ninja from him—to do so would bring the wrath of the entire village onto him, friend or not. He'd rather face, and have a better chance of surviving, Voldemort head on. Spells meant nothing if they couldn't hit the person they were aimed at, and ninja were _designed_ for battle. As insulting as it was, Itachi himself had summed it up once, 'Wizards are just civilians with chakra.' Take away the 'chakra', the wands, of a wizard, and you'd have a nearly helpless civilian—even the ministry's Aurors would be virtually powerless. "What would happen if I refuse?" He said softly, carefully.

Finally, Itachi raised his head so his eyes could be seen, and pale blue eyes locked with blood red. "Then you and I will both forget this meeting ever occurred," He dropped his gaze back into shadows, and Dumbledore released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "And I would head elsewhere. The _Hokage_ thinks I'm dead, and I... do not wish to change that."

Well, he at least didn't have to fear the anger of his long time friend for helping a wanted missing-nin. But what happened that would cause Itachi to desire to remain to be thought of as dead? "What happened, Itachi-_san_?"

Silence, broken only by the small crackling of the fire and the droning snores, stretched on for a while before Itachi finally parted his lips to speak. But it wasn't to reply to his question. "This is the best place for me to disappear to. If I stayed in my own world, I would never be able to stay hidden for long. But this place... This school... Almost no one knows it even _exists_. I can take up a life here, and no one would even suspect it." At some point, black eyes, almost desperate if anything, even as the face remained perfectly blank, caught Dumbledore's own. "Sir, let me disappear here. I'll work; I'll do anything you want. I know Hagrid took his own class and was slacking a bit on his ground keeping duties—I'd be willing to take over for him, trimming the hedges, maintaining the Quidditch pitch; anything you want."

Dumbledore was silent, and he calmly observed how Itachi suddenly drop his gaze, as if he had given something away he hadn't meant to. The old man was stricken by the sheer similarity the then Tom Riddle and Itachi had at this point—seeking him to grant them a job when they had nothing else but darkness. He then noticed Itachi's hand, hanging slightly off his raised knee, was shaking ever so slightly. The boy retracted the limb, as if sensing the look, and hid it in his lap, but didn't otherwise move, and the quiet raged on. While Riddle thought he deserved the job, Itachi was almost desperate. No matter the similarity, Itachi was not Riddle, and he was not wishing to convert anyone to the dark arts.

And this was a golden opportunity. Dumbledore, while highly disapproving of the manner they were created, always slightly coveted the army his friend Sarutobi had at his beck and call. Most all were loyal to a point, and obeyed without question the orders the Hokage dealt out. Itachi offered the wizened Headmaster a chance for a ninja, a _highly powerful_ ninja, to call his own—admittedly not as blindly loyal as a Konoha Ninja would be to the Hokage, but that could be changed in time. And given the abilities that all ninja possessed, let alone an elite like the one before him, it would mean he could have an invaluable spy, fighter, defender, or even possible trainer at his command. Dumbledore felt his hand twitch, ever so slightly, at the near endless possibilities presented before him in the package of one single fifteen year old.

The elder wizard glanced at the paper still in his hands. The thought of hiring Itachi for the Defense teacher flashed through his mind, and _oh_, was it tempting, but he knew he couldn't do that. The ministry was... 'insisting,' and if they found out Itachi—a _child_—had taken the position, all hell would break loose, and Dumbledore was having difficulties handling the rising underground resistance against Voldemort without them waging their own open war on him politically. And while Itachi was very good with magical creatures, the position would only be temporary as Hagrid was to come back when his own mission was complete and they'd be back to square one. A guarding position was also out, as the ministry had recently created new laws regarding those positions, and if he was to suddenly have an armed shadow, or even just one at the school, he'd be taken from his position and he just _couldn't_ risk that; Harry's nurturing was far too important to be left in the hands of anyone else. Perhaps become a student again? No... if he was to be taken in, he would need to be given a position where he'd be able to do tasks without interference—especially if that... _woman_ was to be the new Defense teacher.

He sighed, his mind racing for a logical reason for the ninja to remain at the school, when such a thing fell right into his lap.

"Headmaster!" A new voice gasped, throwing open the door.

Dumbledore was shocked to see Professor Trelawney run in, face flushed behind her large rimmed, abnormally slanted glasses. It was equally surprising that she was in his office, as it was that he completely missed the bell notifier positioned in his office for such unplanned visits. She stumbled up to his desk where she braced herself and frantically gulped down air. She looked like she had run from her tower all the way here. "Headmaster!" She croaked again. "I've just—been reading—my crystal ball!" She managed to gasp out, getting her breath under control with a few more deep breaths.

"Yes...?" His eyebrows brought down into a slight frown, he wondered what she had seen, and if it was a true prediction or not. His eyes flicked ever so slightly towards the shadowed person in the chair before him, and he wondered vaguely if the boy had anything to do with this.

"And... well..." She straightened, a placating smile on her lips as she absently went about correcting her toss hair and crooked glasses, clutching at her half-off shawl. The silence drew on and she looked at her finger nails, picking at them absently. "I'm afraid..." She said in a small voice, her smile still there. "That I have to resign. The Fates That Be say that," She gave a half glance to the dark haired boy who seemingly watched her calmly for all his shadowed face showed, "That I am not needed here anymore. There is someone else meant to take my position, and who am I to go against the forces?"

"But, Sybill—" He began, thoroughly shocked at her resignation. But she just shook her head, her smile still there, but it turned saddened, as if she didn't want to give up her job, but had already come to terms with it.

"I'm not going to have a very good year with that new Defense teacher anyway." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, finally dropping her hands to wipe them against her robes absently. She didn't see how surprised Dumbledore looked at finding out that she knew about the ministry's interference. He just got the letter today, and had told no one. "As long as he wants a job here, I offer mine. He needs it more then I do. Excuse me... I'll be—I'll be packing my things." She turned and made her way to the door, but not without pausing next to Itachi, and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, child... If you ever need anything, I will help as much as I can..." She said in her most sincere tone, not looking directly at him. But the boy didn't react one way or another to the touch or voice, eyes still cast in shadows.

Dumbledore probably would have assumed Itachi threatened her for the job—for it was very coincidental that she resigned when he came searching for a position, and she... isn't the best fortune teller—but she was terrible at hiding her fear. He knew he didn't do anything to her by her lack of terror of him. So that meant she predicted something true? She had to, to know about the new teacher, unless she intercepted a Ministry Owl... which is as likely as Voldemort wearing a tutu and proclaiming himself the Heir of Hufflepuff.

Silence again settled over them, the soft footsteps and distant click of the door closing echoing through the room. Dumbledore didn't say anything, as he was trying to come to terms with the elation that a near string-free position was suddenly available, and the worry he had at what he was to do to keep Sybill—and her prediction—safe from the dark forces. His emotions settled upon a muted muddle, and he didn't realize the stretching silence as conversation fell flat.

"I have found that," Itachi, surprisingly, broke the quiet. "When one Seer reads another, the result is far more accurate then if they had tried reading a non-Seer. Synergy, I guess."

"You have the ability?" He asked, brows knitting slightly. Not that he'd need to be to take the position—he only needed to know the art to teach it, not be able to work it as Trelawney showed in most of her lifetime—but True Seers were very, very rare.

"I believe so, yes. Thankfully, however, I can control it. I only see things when I want to see them." He lifted his shoulders in an ever so slight shrug.

"I see..." He said, thoroughly staggered. If Itachi was telling the truth, then he was a very powerful Seer indeed. Few real Seers could control their ability, and it often drove them to insanity. Only the best of the best could turn their ability on and off at will. "Well, Itachi-_san_," He said, running a hand over his mouth and into his long beard, deciding what should be said now, and what should be said later. "You understand that I'll have to interview you, as well as test your ability. I'll give you a few days to rest before then. You may sleep in your old Gryffindor dorm until this has been properly arranged. I will be testing you on Scrying, Tarot cards, and by the interoperation of dreams. You need only to pass one of them. And then to fit within the laws, you will need to be tested and pass the exams for not only O., but N.E. as well, and you have to take those from a Ministry of Magic personnel. I can arrange one to arrive the week before school starts to test you so you my have time to study and prepare."

"Understood," He nodded slightly, just a single dip of his head.

"Also," Dumbledore paused, and then sighed, suddenly weary from the long night, "I am not sure you realize this, but something has happened since you were last here. Voldemort has come back, and I will ask of you to fight against him. We need every person we can get. There is a group I run, called the Order of the Phoenix—a secret society, made to fight against Voldemort with or without the Ministry's help. You will not leave the castle to do things, as it will be your duty in the Order to protect this school from hostile take-over. I don't require you to fight for me, or join the Order—dearest me, no—but I would like it if you do." He needed to tread carefully with this one, as he was no mere wizarding child, easily lead to his views. Vows of loyalty could be said later, what he needed now was a promise to try.

Itachi raised his eyes and looked at him while he spoke, and it seemed that much of the stress that had been weighing the young man down had vanished. But he is who he is, and did not blindly accept a binding request, even one as vague as it was. "I will think about it, and will reply when I have made my decision. I do not guarantee that I will join, but I will evaluate it completely before I decide and will notify you of when I do." Tread carefully indeed.

Dumbledore nodded before he sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I have to ask... Is this really what you want? I know it will be very difficult for you here, as this is not your native home and it is very different. There are no great _ninja_ to challenge you—you will be the only one of your kind here. Voldemort is powerful, and you can't kill him in your normal way, but he is still not a _ninja_."

"I understand that, and yes, it is what I wish. The life here is simple, even if a war was to break out. I do not need to worry about anything." They lapsed into silence again, and Itachi didn't move from his spot. Maybe he sensed that Dumbledore had something else to ask, maybe he wanted to tell him something. Whatever it was, he just sat there in that relaxed pose, as if he was just a bored teenager.

"What happened, Itachi-_san_?" Dumbledore asked again, prompting. "Why did you think to come here? Surely you could make your life outside of this school."

The longest pause yet, but Itachi made no motion to move, to avoid the question this time.

"I've told you once... this place has changed me..." He finally spoke, his voice blank and even as he began his tale.

He spoke of his story, and the blood it was soaked with. Dumbledore was careful to keep his face blank, but he knew his eyes revealed the sorrow he felt for the missing-ninja. Itachi's tone had not changed one way or the other the entire explanation. It was if he was merely telling of how to make a simple potion, and yet it spoke of death, defeat, destruction, and dread. He sighed tiredly after he finished and then placed his hands on the armrests and forced himself up. "I will rest, and then I would like to borrow some books from your library until you need to interview me, if that is acceptable?" Smoothly, as though there wasn't a very nasty, newly revealed burn on his back, he walked to the door, bowed towards the old wizard, and left.

The wood shut with an echoing click, and left silence in its wake. Dumbledore stared after the young man—the _child_ who should have never been exposed to such horrors as he was—before he sighed a long-suffering sigh. Lazily, he lifted the mere letter in his hand, not yet bothering to read the words. It seemed so pathetic, now, in comparison to the problems Itachi faced, Itachi _caused_, but for the situation at hand, the Headmaster could not ignore it. It was just another ball in the juggle he preformed, and he couldn't slip and let it fall to the wayside, regardless of the new, fragile, priceless glass sphere added by the ninja in question.

Quickly, crisply, he scrawled out his "acceptance" of the "applicant" and sealed it with magic and wax, to be sent off in the morning, before bringing out another piece of paper. Hesitantly, carefully, he thought about what to write, as this was a larger problem now. He _needed_ to contact his old friend, and his friend _needed_ to understand the situation. Dumbledore had to make sure to be very, very careful in what he told and asked, otherwise it could bring more harm then good.

His quill touched parchment, and soon emerald green ink Japanese characters bloomed into existence on the paper.


	2. Chapter 2 : Itachi's been made a TEACHER

Updated 14 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

Harry was not having a good time. After finding out at the end of his third year, he has had to spend two weeks at the Dursleys before being able to go to Sirius's. Why? No idea, but he had to—and Sirius agreed, even though he didn't seem to like it much either. Then, this year, he was continuously left out of everything the Order was doing—when it was because of him that they had re-banded! He was attacked by two Dementors and when he saved himself and his cousin he was nearly expelled because of it. Also, Ron and Hermione were made prefects and he wasn't, he was stuck in a compartment on the train full of... not cool people, covered in weird black gunk when Cho comes, and-and _Malfoy_ has also been made a prefect. Dumbledore wouldn't even look at him, the _Daily Profit_ slandered his name at least twice a week, and he was even having hallucinations that an insane chick, Luna, was having as well! Life was just peachy for him, thanks for asking.

He made his way to the table, ignoring the whispered comments the followed him. He settled down with his friends and Neville, also choosing to ignore the excessively friendly greeting some of his "friends" gave him, making their conversation's topic clear just before his arrival.

He looked for Hagrid at the teachers table, but his eyes saw no abnormally large man sitting there. They did find Doris Umbridge sitting next to Dumbledore. What the hell was _she_ doing here?

But soon he was distracted by the sorting. The hat sung a weird song, and it left him confused. That was oddly... Specific. They'll have to unite with the other houses or fall to Voldemort. He'd be fine with everyone but Slytherins. Blech! Harry gave a long glare to Malfoy, who was obnoxiously talking over at his own table, his back to him.

But as the K's came around, a sudden loud gasp escaped Hermione. "Oh—_my_—GOD!" She said, eyes wide as she blatantly stared up at the teacher's table.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron said, looking over to her.

She pointed, and directed their gaze to the spot between Dumbledore and Snape. "Is... that... _Itachi?_" Sure enough, lurking in the shadow of the two other predominate people and calmly watching the crowd, was their ninja friend Itachi. His dark hair was done in his usual pony tail, sleek and shiny as it had ever been. His hands were clasped together before his mouth, his elbows resting on the table as his dark eyes carelessly scanned the room. He wore plain black teacher's robes, but the barest amount of shine on his arm showed them that he still had his ninja-band thingy, whatever it was called. All in all, he looked nearly exactly the same as when they saw him for the first time, two years ago.

"Oh my god—_it is_! What is he doing here? Why hasn't he replied to all of our letters!" Harry said, shocked that he hadn't noticed his ninja friend before. He had been in contact with the Konoha resident over the summer before last, and a good portion of his fourth year—sending letters asking for his help didn't seem like cheating during the tournament, and he had always given good advice—but then, suddenly, all of his letters came back unopened, and soon after Hedwig and Crea, Ron's owl, refused to go anymore.

"He made us worry that he was dead, the stupid git!" Ron growled, glaring up at the other boy. He, however, didn't seem to realize his fingers were trailing over the back of the gloves he had gotten as a gift from Itachi, gloves which he was currently wearing—just like he did every day since he got them.

"But what's he doing up there?" Harry tore his eyes away, glancing at his friends as he talked lowly so not to be over heard. No one else was supposed to know the real reason behind Itachi's year long stay. "He's an _ANBU_, and his letters seemed like he was kept very busy, and couldn't leave _Konoha_."

"Maybe he's guarding Dumbledore?" Hermione whispered back, bending over the table.

"I dunno, it seems like it. I mean, he is next to him... But wouldn't that have meant he would have come to Sirius's house?"

"Yeah..." Ron trailed off, before scowling deeply. "If that jerk came and didn't see us, I'm going to kick him a good one right in the—"

But he was suddenly cut off when Dumbledore rose to speak. "To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!" And food then promptly distracted them.

However, throughout the meal, they all kept shooting glances at their once friend, who was calmly eating with his habitual chop sticks, not talking to anyone or looking at anything as he concentrated on his food. After Ron got into a slight argument with Nearly-Headless Nick, and the ghost sat with the Creevey brothers, the food vanished and Dumbledore stood to make his end of feast announcements as every year. They waited eagerly to see if Itachi would be joining their house again, or if he would be mentioned at all. They didn't have to wait long.

"We have a surprising _three_ new staff changes this year." Dumbledore smiled at everyone. "First, we'd like to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking the Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Sadly, also, Professor Trelawney had chosen to leave our ranks over the summer—" Harry strained to hear over the distraught calls of Lavender and Parvati, who were seated next to him, at the news, "—But Professor Uchiha has kindly applied for, and was accepted to take up the position." Surprisingly, most of the Great Hall gasped in shock—apparently, they hadn't seen him sitting calmly at the table until Dumbledore gestured to him either, which made Harry feel a bit better about overlooking him. "A few of you may recognize him from two years ago when he had transferred to this school for one year. While he may have recently been your peer, he has promised to take the position with an unbiased hand." Itachi had made no movement from Dumbledore's speech, and instead just watched the varying shocked expressions around the hall, looking almost bored.

Ron gaped in the shocked air that followed, nearly echoing with the silence. "He's been made... a _teacher_?" He turned to Hermione. "That _so_ out-ranks us!"

But he wasn't the only one who was shocked. In perfect unison, Fred and George, sitting a few seats away, slammed their hands on the table and stood very abruptly, pointing towards the silent boy. "YOU MADE HIM A TEACHER?" Their voices rang through the hall.

"Rest assured, Professor Uchiha has all his top O.W.L.s, and N.E.W.T.s required for the position, and is a very skilled Seer so you need not worry about not learning anything from him." Dumbledore smiled over at the twins.

"But he's underage!" Seamus shouted up, and quite a few students gave their agreements. "He's only fifteen!"

"Under the Ministry Law regarding the use of underage witches or wizards, it really doesn't apply to those who have already passed their necessary O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s given by trained Ministry examiners. Professor Uchiha took all of his exams over this summer, and passed every one with flying colors. He is more then able to take the position." He said in a finalized tone of voice that silenced the loud outbursts, although it couldn't stop the whispers. "Now, tryouts of the House Quidditch teams will take place on the..."

Harry was trying to process the thought. Itachi was here... To teach _Divination_? The _one class _he professed to disliking? He ignored the speech the frog-woman was saying—just like every one else—and chewed on the thought before bringing his ideas to Ron, as Hermione seemed absorbed in her own world.

"You think it's just a cover up to stay near Dumbledore or something? Like how he did with me?"

"It has to be. He never liked telling the future. And it has to be impossible for him to pass all those tests in just a _summer_. Percy, you remember, nearly killed himself over his last year, and he's had a full seven years to prepare!"

"Yeah, but... Wouldn't it make more sense to just follow Dumbledore around? I mean, if he's a teacher here—or using the disguise as one—then he'd have to stay here and teach classes, and grade things and stuff while Dumbledore does... whatever Dumbledore does."

"True... But what about that... booshun, bunshion... thingy he used? Remember that?"

"He said he couldn't sustain it for longer then an hour or two, remember? And why _Divination_?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, why couldn't he take the Care of Magical Creatures class? He always liked that class, and that old bat, Professor Grubby-Plank, wouldn't have needed to come. We could trust him in Hagrid's class, not to steal it from him."

"Yeah, but remember—Itachi has the same crazy thoughts Hagrid does with magical creatures."

Ron shuddered, "Oh god, you're right. I'd forgotten. Never mind, then."

Suddenly scattered clapping started around them. "Hey, what's going on? Did I miss something?" Ron asked, looking quiet confused and looking around. "Oh, wait, never mind." He said as comprehension dawned on him. "The frog-lady's just finished croaking."

**XXXXX**

Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried their way down to the Great Hall that morning, having not managed to catch Itachi after the feast. Apparently, to make things easy for them, the Uchiha would be far more visible then his predecessor—if at least only showing up at the teacher's table for regular meals. He calmly sat at the end of the table, chewing on a muffin, as they approached.

"Itachi!" They called as they came over. He turned and nodded to them, his almost feminine black eyes watching as they came up to him.

"Hello Ron, Harry, Hermione." He greeted while standing, meeting them a few steps away from the table. He had grown taller since they last saw him, but while he had surpassed Hermione, he was still shorter then Harry and without a doubt shorter then Ron. His voice had also subtly changed, becoming just a tone or two deeper. At a glance, they noticed a very deep scratch through the spiral-leaf thing on his arm-wrap thing, as if it had been purposefully cut, but the rest of him looked exactly the same, down to the almost expressionless face.

"We've missed you!" Hermione said, and then surprised Itachi (and her friends) by giving him a quick hug before nearly jumping back. "You had us worried when you stopped taking our letters!"

"Yeah, we thought you died, or something." Ron scowled at him, a little more angry then necessary due to the hug. Not that he was jealous or anything, no.

"Why'd you stop?" Harry asked.

"..." Itachi frowned slightly, trying to word it properly. "I am sorry I did not reply to your letters, but I am afraid I was rather distracted after a few months, it's—"

"Classified." They monotoned in a defeated unison. They had all had gotten that response many, _many_ times from him.

"Actually, no, it's not." Itachi glanced slightly behind him, knowing the Umbridge woman was watching him intently from her spot. "But that is for another time. I am afraid you and I have to finish breakfast, and then get to class. Harry, Ron, you are in my lesson today after lunch so I will see you then. Hermione, I will see you some other time." He nodded to them before turning and pointedly walking back to his spot.

Knowing they had been dismissed—and they didn't want to miss breakfast—they headed down to their table, and then groaned over their line up of classes.

Itachi's dark eyes followed them, carefully soaking in their living, breathing forms, before returning to his bacon.

"It's not proper to be fraternizing with the student body, Professor Uchiha." The woman on his right said in her creepy, high-pitched voice, trying to coat it with sugar. But he was ninja; he could see the deception as clear as day.

Itachi turned to coolly regard the woman he was surprised hadn't been accidentally summoned by a (very) drunk Jiraiya yet. Odd things tend to happen to jutsu while one is under the influence of several bottles. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger were my friends while I was here at Hogwarts as a student. We have not seen each other for over a year, it is no surprise they approached me. Simply because I have become their educator does not mean I will not be on friendly terms with them." He turned back to his food. "And, I do believe, you mentioned something last night in your speech about being the student's friends as well as their teacher?"

"Ah, so I did..." She said, the fake sweetness in her voice dropping away. She looked at him for a moment longer before turning to her food, almost angry but hiding it well.

From the second she had walked into the castle, he disliked her. She reeked of devious plots, and falseness, something that grated on his ninja senses.

Finding his food starting to taste horribly like a dead frog, he left the table and made his way to his first class, only glancing once behind him towards his Team Six. Ironic, he thought with a small, almost sad grin, how both times he came to this school, Divinations was his very first class. But oh, how great the differences in circumstances...

**XXXXX**

Itachi stood with his arms folded behind his back as he waited for his next batch of students to come. Harry was the first to walk up the steps, but froze when his torso was poking in, and stared around the room.

Indeed, Itachi mused, it was far different then when Trelawney occupied it. Gone were the mismatched chairs and crammed tables, over packed book cases with a verity of trinkets, and the thick, sickening perfume. The tables all had the same cover on them, that of a parchment tan with black stars forming basic constellations. Plush, comfortable-looking, deep red chairs were scattered evenly around at each table, all positioned to face the book that was on the surface of the table as well as the front of the class, where Itachi's desk sat against the only flat wall. The few remaining book cases were neatly filled with books and scrolls, and occasionally a well watered, normal plant, and while there still was a fire brewing in the fireplace, it was small and merely kept the room a nice temperature. The windows were still closed off with sheets, but they were black and far more affective at removing excess light. For decorations (also known as things to stare at when one was bored during a test), Itachi had hung up ornamental scrolls depicting a few poems he had memorized, some life-morals that should be abided by, or a quick story all in Japanese calligraphy. All in all, the room looked completely changed.

"Good afternoon, Harry. Where is Ronald?" Itachi asked as the other dark-haired boy finally heaved himself up into the room.

"He and Hermione were bickering again, and I didn't want to hear it, so I left and came here early. Wow! This place looks so _different_! And I can finally _breathe_ in here!" Harry craned his head, looking around the seemingly much larger room.

"You have no idea how long it took me to get out the smell." He shook his head, glancing to see other students begin to climb up the step latter.

"I'd bet. So," He asked, turning back to the Uchiha as Ron came up and greeted them. "Why are you here?" He lowered his voice, so not to be over heard. "Are you on a mission again, like last year?"

"Who are you guarding this time? Dumbledore?" Ron piped in, his own voice nothing but a whisper.

"I am here to teach, and nothing else." He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. "Please find a seat, we will begin the lesson shortly." And he turned, walking towards his desk, leaving them scowling after him.

He sat down and waited for the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors to take their seats at the tables, watching as they chatted absently. Lavender and Parvati sat in their usual seats, but they were looking very sad and depressed, missing the buggy-eyed woman.

When everyone had ambled in and taken a chair, he stood from his own and walked in front of his desk, not saying anything until the entire room had stilled and was watching him.

"Good afternoon. As you all know, I am Itachi Uchiha, and I am your new Divination teacher." His black eyes scanned each of the faces, not really settling on any which one. "As a teacher, proper etiquette requires you to refer to me as Professor Uchiha during class and when talking to other teachers. You may also call me Uchiha-_sensei_, which is a title similar to Professor from my homeland. I will add the suffix, '_san_' to your names, but do not worry, it just means a basic 'Mr.' or 'Ms.' But, as I know you as friends, and most of you as past dorm mates, I will allow you to call me Itachi while in private and outside of class, I will refer to you in the same informal way. While in my class, please follow the rules on the scroll behind me. If it is not on the rule scroll, you do not have to abide by it, but I may add to the rules if the need arises. Break a rule, I will take away the given house points, no exceptions." He tilted his head behind him, where a short list of class rules were located, hanging in plain view. Next to each rule was a number that had no meaning to their positioning, and ranged from five points to thirty. At the very bottom was 'If you do not like it, leave.' in bold, black writing.

The ex-ANBU started to weave through the tables, heading towards on of the book cases. "Over the summer, after I had accepted the position formally, I took it upon myself to look over your past works." He picked up one of the rolled up parchments, and glanced at it. "While very amusing to read, I am afraid bollocksing will get you no where in this class anymore. Did you know, Potter-_san_, you were scheduled to die no less then seventeen times by drowning alone in just two years?" He didn't bother to look at his flustered friend, or at the scattered snickers through the class.

"Nonetheless, I will not be grading you on the accuracy of your predictions." He caught Neville's eye, and saw how relieved the boy looked, but Lavender and Parvati looked scandalized. "I realize not everyone is a Seer, and to grade you for something that can't be helped is stupid. I will be, instead, grading you on your understanding of the art. Just because you can't _do_ something, doesn't mean you can't explain _how_ it is done. However, having at least a slight ability will help you if you desire to take my N.E.W.T. class, but it is not required." He had already made a very similar speech once today to another reoccurring class, and a modified one for a first time class; he was getting good at holding the class's attention while telling them the needed information. He set back down the parchment and made his way to his desk, lighting a single stick of incense before picking up the book there. It was the same book on every table, and he felt a good portion of the class's eye shift to their own books.

"Your assignment today, and for the next few weeks, will be dream interpretation." He had decided on following Trelawney's lesson time line for the reoccurring classes, but started the new students off on what he felt would be the best thing to start with. Instead of tea leaves, they started with star consultations, as they already had a similar class for two years, and then they would go onto the much-known Tarot reading. "You are to create a book and write down every dream you have each night to be used in class. If, for some reason, you can't remember your dream—or don't want anyone to know it—then instead you are to substitute writing a single paragraph each on five different symbolic meanings and their possible variations, found in the book on pages fourteen through thirty-three. You may not repeat symbols until you have written them all out. I will periodically be collecting those books throughout this section, checking them for your work. For now, you may either interpret a recent dream, or just read up on the symbolic meanings of different things for future interpretation. I will be walking among you incase you need help." Itachi looked around at the students who started to get their books and begin working, but then sighed in an almost defeated way. "Five points from Gryffindor to Thomas-_san_. The second rule clearly states no material outside of this class may be read, used or worked on during class time unless stated otherwise. Please put the magazine away, or I will take it from you."

"How did... you know?" Shocked at not only Itachi taking points away from his once house, but that he could see the magazine that Dean was carefully showing Seamus under the table, which was located in the farthest back corner, completely hidden.

"You forget, Thomas-_san_, that I am the most observant person you probably will ever meet. I heard the rustling of the pages. If you're going to cheat or break the rules in my class, you're going to have to learn how to do it without catching my attention in any way. Now please get to work, you only have less then half the class time left."

"Um... Professor Uchiha, I uh, can't figure out this meaning..." Neville squeaked in the quiet that followed. "Am I going to die soon, or just get a hair cut?" And so the class went.

Harry and Ron lingered after the bell had rung, waiting for the rest of the class to leave before they approached him. Itachi was putting up the books back to the way they had been at the student's first entry, and did not look at them until they spoke.

"Itachi," Harry said as he approached.

Itachi glanced up from picking up the discarded books, preparing for his next class of Slytherin fourth years. "Yes? What is it Harry, Ronald?"

"Why are you here, really? I mean, there has to be more then just because you wanted to teach Divination."

"Yeah, I think I remember one of your letters saying that you couldn't leave _Konoha_ whenever you wanted."

He paused slightly, reaching over to collect another book. "That is true. _Ninja_, especially _ANBU_, are not allowed to leave _Konoha_ outside of missions, or without the express permission of the _Hokage_ himself." Placing the book on top of the others in his arms, he turned to the male part of Team Six. "However, I have left _Konoha_ for personal reasons, and I will not be returning. I came here to find work." He brushed passed them and placed the items on a lower shelf.

"We can discuss this later, as you two need to get to class." He said quickly before they could comment. "I will escort you two and Hermione after dinner to my private quarters where we will not be disturbed, and I will answer your questions there." He turned to give them both sharp glares. "And what is to be said in that room will _remain_ in that room. Understood?" He waited, watching them with hard eyes, until they both nodded hurriedly. "Now go, you're going to have to run for it as it is." He went back to his task, retrieving some star charts for the Slytherins as he listened to the pair of footsteps leaving his class room.

**XXXXX**

Dinner was unpleasant for Itachi. For some reason, as she had with breakfast (he ate lunch in his classroom), Umbridge sat next to him again. However, he was hungry and didn't want her spoiling his food, so he stood up as she was starting to put things on her plate and moved to the other side of the table, to the only other seat, between Snape and Flitwick. So he had to endure not only Snape's and Umbridge's glares throughout his meal, but Professor McGonagall's as well, as she had been forced to take the seat he had vacated. Sure, he had to be careful of slipped in poisons to his meal from Snape, but at least his food didn't taste like frog again. He finished early and excused himself, walking down to where Harry and the others were. He received odd stares his entire walk down, but he expertly ignored them.

"Are you three finished?" He asked them, eyeing how their plates were little more then half empty.

"Yeah," Harry said moodily, nearly slamming his knife and fork down before standing abruptly. "We're done."

Itachi gave him a slightly curious look, wondering what was upsetting him this time, but didn't comment on it. "Follow me, then," He turned and led what he still called his team out of the Great Hall, even more whispers following him then before, and not all were pleasant.

They walked down a hall next to the flight of stairs that lead to the Gryffindor common room, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Itachi had been given the option of taking a room on any floor where one was available, or even use his classroom as his predecessor had done. He chose this room, a smaller one then all the others on the first floor, but had a ten by seven foot private garden attached.

He used his wand and tapped on the wood, hearing the distinct click of the bolt unlocking before turning the handle and entering first.

Ron, Hermione and Harry followed him, and looked eagerly around the room. Itachi had been allowed to change anything he wanted to about the room, and he had used it to its limits. It was twenty feet deep and ten feet wide, with the entrance on the left side. Immediately to the right was a small, simple kitchen (he had the option of either a kitchen or a private bathroom, but there was a bathroom just down the hall if he needed it) with a wizard version of a fridge, wood cabinets that hung from the ceiling over a counter that faced the rest of the room, and a sink. Past the kitchen, the floor changed from dark wood to tatami mats. Against the far wall was a solid bookcase, stuffed with a wide selection of different books. On the left side there was a futon sitting against the wall, and at it's foot and up to the bookcase was a shoji sliding screen wall, leading out to the garden. Across the way from the rice paper walls was a desk with a chair, a few more books and a verity of different Divination things scattered on the top. Above it, a foot or so down from the ceiling, were four different masks hung on the wall. One they recognized as his weasel mask, but the others were completely different, and beneath each of those, on a small shelf, was a weird stone ornament thing with engraved Japanese writing on it. The color theme of the room was cream and a dark, rich, reddish brown, and left without a doubt where his ancestry came from.

"Cool digs," Ron said, looking around wide eyed. "I suddenly feel the need to become a teacher here."

Harry and Hermione nodded in amazed agreement.

"My favorite part is the garden attached." Itachi walked over to the sliding screen door, and slid it open, leading them to a short of wooden porch with an over hang. The rain pounded at the over hang, casting an almost-curtain with the dripping water. In one of the corners of the area was a leaved cherry tree he planted himself, miniaturized to fit in the small enclosed space. A stone lantern was placed near the five foot tall tree in the middle of the space, and curved around both of them was a small stream that rippled and bubbled as it traversed along the ground across the area, pooling at the feet of two large rocks, and multi colored koi fish could be seen swimming lazily under the rippling surface. And despite being enclosed on all four sides, the garden didn't look cramped in the slightest. "Occasionally I had to ask how to do a certain charm from Professor Flitwick, but all in all I am the one who did this."

"This is amazing, Itachi!" Hermione said, eyes darting around eagerly. "The culture in your room so _fascinating_! I also read a book once on Japanese themed gardens, and this one looks just like one out of the pictures! Which one is this type—a tea one, or a strolling one, or...?"

"This one is modeled so people can sit on this porch, and contemplate things." A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; trust Hermione to know more about his garden then what was obvious. "Now, let us go inside, and I will make some tea. We have a lot to talk about."

Itachi ushered them inside, pointing to the three seats on the other side of the tiled counter. He went about taking out a tea pot and cups in the normal, non-magical method to calm himself for what was to come, but to save time, used his wand to heat the water. "I already told Ron and Harry this, Hermione," He said absently, poring them each a cup. "But whatever is said inside this room will not be discussed outside of it. It's to be completely private, currently only Dumbledore and myself know and I'd rather not if others found out. Understood?"

"Alright, your secret's safe with me. Promise."

Itachi sighed and drew out a chair for himself, sitting down and sipping at his tea in silence for a moment. "First, I will tell you why I had stopped writing, and then I will explain why I chose to come here instead of somewhere else."

"You... Really aren't here to guard Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, looking at him quizzically. "Like how you did Harry?"

"...Do you have any idea how much it cost for him to hire me back then?" He smiled slightly and shook his head, before looking towards the ceiling in his common thinking pose. "It was enough to buy... Oh, at least fifteen Firebolts." All of them choked on their tea.

Sputtering, Harry gaped at him. "_Fifteen Firebolts_?"

"You're kidding!"

"That's enough to buy a decent house with a good bit of land!"

"The mission was a level 'Unranked', which is the most costly of them all. Also, it extended for nine solid months, using one of the best _ANBU_ and split a team up as well by taking their captain away. Unranked don't usually extend past a month if it is for a client outside of _Konoha_ itself, simply for the expense of it." Itachi took another drink of his tea. "I do not think he can afford another request like it. Now, for what I've brought you here to explain..."

**XXXXX**

Doctor Ietsu Ayame looked at the clipboard once again, rereading the information there. She was walking down the halls of Konoha's First Branch Hospital, the warm, early spring light flowing in through the windows to bounce across the white washed walls of the hallway. It was a lovely day, such a nice change from the damp cold of a week previous.

But she was not someone to be distracted by such things. It could be a monsoon outside, and she wouldn't bat an eyelash. It had taken her long and hard hours to get to her position, and she'd be dammed if she left down her guard enough to loose it. She gave a cool passing glance to a group of younger doctors, who she knew were plotting to take her position.

Little upstarts.

Turning her nose away, she strode a bit more purposefully down the hall, professionally absorbing herself into the notes. This was her case, just transferred out of the ER and into Intensive Care. The medic-nin may take any ER case they wanted; when it came to _maintaining_ a patient's health, no one could beat a genuine doctor.

The patient in question was a young male, Konoha ninja, name Uchiha Itachi. Blood type AB, height 156cm, weight 49kg. The list of injuries included a collection of broken and fractured bones, only a few of which were healed by the medic-nin. A sever concussion coupled with drastic blood loss and tissue and epidermis damage spelled-out trouble in big, red letters, but Dr. Ietsu was almost tingly with anticipation. She would save this ninja's life, and by god, she would secure her place once and for all! And, hopefully, this one was handsome and single. Ninja always were the most exciting in bed.

Unfortunately, when she finally made it into the room of her newest patient, after she immediately requested the attending nurse to brief her on the ninja's current state, she was disappointed to realize that this one was notably younger then herself—dammit. She always loved the older, more experienced ones.

She sighed and dismissed the nurse, who scurried away quickly. Dr. Ietsu picked up the checklist, noting that the nurse only had time to do the most basic of tests and procedures by the time she made her appearance, before starting on the next process. The machines were all beeping and ticking away, faithfully and accurately displaying what they monitored. What they didn't tell her, however, was that her patient had awoken during her visit.

Eventually, she glanced over him, assumingly to check for herself his condition, but her eyes widened slightly upon taking in affect that her patient was awake. It was a mark to her abilities to react such a way, when even Itachi realized he should be no where near waking point in his recovery.

"Uchiha-sama," She began, taking a step closer and carefully leaning towards him. She took his weak hand comfortingly, her own hand soft and warm, her brown eyes taking his assuredly, "You're in the hospital, Konoha's First Branch by the Eastern gate. You're safe now; nothing will hurt you here," she told him softly, yet firmly. Dr. Ietsu had said the speech dozens of times in her career, all in the very same manner. Ninja were volatile creatures by training, and awakening in a strange place always made their alarms go off. In such a state they were a danger to themselves as well as others, so a regulation was put into effect so that whenever a ninja awoke, the first thing done—regardless of any pressing matters for their care—was that they were told a scripted line. It was simple and it was true, so that no ninja would be confused by code when in a delicate state.

The ninja in question made no movement following the script. His eyes remained heavy lidded, not even blinking. His lips remained parted, the short, harsh breaths scraping against the oxygen mask he wore. The hand remained lifeless and clammy.

"My name is Doctor Ietsu, and I am in charge of your care. You've had a very bad run in, and almost didn't make it. However, we were able to stabilize you, and heal the most strenuous damage. You're still a long way off from being well again, so you'll have to remain in the hospital. Don't worry, Uchiha-sama, you'll receive the best care during your entire stay here. We'll take care of everything, and take every measure to make sure you're back into tip-top shape." She smiled reassuringly, though she knew personally that he was still in very much danger of dying. Had he been a civilian, he probably would have died already, but this young man, this _boy_, was one of the best ninja Konoha possessed, and nothing _but_ the best would suffice for him.

The boy blinked, slowly, but his eyes didn't reopen beyond their initial point. Ayame suddenly had the stray thought that he didn't comprehend the situation at all, but then she noted that his thin, child lips were moving ever so slightly. The breath was coming out less of the hiss and rattle of water-clogged lungs, and more in small forceful bursts, as if he was trying to tell her something, but he didn't have the energy to.

Dr. Ietsu leaned forward even more, to try and catch the words. Sometimes, in similar situations, such words were the last the person ever spoke, so she listened with all seriousness. She still couldn't comprehend him as she hovered over her head, so she removed the oxygen mask and bent down till her ear was tickled by his warm breath. Fractured sounds, not words, made it to her still yet, so she summed up what little chakra she possessed and drew it to her hand, placing it on the youth's chest to ease his breathing. It didn't do much—she was no ninja—but the head of the Uchiha clan took in one more breath, notably stronger then the last, and hissed out his nearly inaudible words.

"I want to die."

Ayame blinked, shocked. Slowly, she pulled away to look down at him, suddenly noting with a jolt to her heart that he was younger then even her kid brother. His black eyes, still mostly lidded, stared at her in perfect clarity. There was no madness, no pain, no fog of exhaustion. They were lucid, comprehending, clear... and dead. These words were not spoken in a fit of pain, or even of survivor's guilt. They were spoken in such a pure honest desire that it utterly horrified her.

Dr. Ietsu removed her had, discharging the chakra. His chest, which had been instinctively utilizing the healing affects to suck down much needed oxygen in sharp gasps, went back to its unrhythmic, small, choking wheeze. Her face fell into a practiced blank mask as she replaced his facemask, and she stood up straight, hugging her clipboard professionally. "I am sorry, Uchiha-sama, but we cannot allow that." She said coolly, before turning to resume the task she had initially left off, hoping his exhaustion would soon claim him back into the realm of sleep once more.

Her patient was just as quite and as still as before, his puffs of breath no larger or smaller. He did not shy away, or struggle under her ministrations, but his eyes never left her. Unfortunately, he continued to remain awake during the entire procedure—a feat that surely should have been beyond his current physical capabilities—lying there and watching.

Even after she got herself reassigned away from his case those accusing, soulless eyes watched her.

**XXXXX**

He set down his cup, and the small click echoed in the room as he finished his tale.

"Merlin's beard..." Ron breathed, breaking the silence that had spread by the end of Itachi's monologue.

"I'm so sorry, Itachi." Harry said, reaching over and gripping Itachi's shoulder lightly. That was far worse then just being left out of a conversation for a month. And Cedric... Well, he and Harry weren't very close, and there had been only one death.

Hermione didn't speak, but instead came around and hugged Itachi from behind, though the ninja didn't react one way or the other as she sniffled into his shoulder.

"Tell me of all the things that have happened here that I've missed." He said after a few moments of silence, leaning forward and out of Hermione's grip and indirectly but pointedly telling them to drop the past subject.

They all exchanged glances, but then told him what had happened after the last letter he had read, sometimes arguing a little on what had happened. They spoke of the Triwizard tournament, of Voldemort, of the Order, of the Dementors, of the _Daily Prophet_ and everything in between.

"You have detention with Umbridge?" Itachi frowned over at Harry when he told of what the frog-woman had done in just the last class.

"Yeah, the worthless hag." Harry said, scowling as anger bubbled in his chest. "Just because I said Voldemort has come back—and he has!"

"Hm..." The Uchiha ran his fingers over his lower lip, thinking. "I do not trust that woman at all, especially alone with a student, and most particularly you. I will sit in with you on your detention to make sure she does not do anything."

"Oh, she can't be that bad." Hermione said, "I mean, she's from the _Ministry_, she wouldn't _kill_ Harry... Right?" She added almost nervously at the looks she was receiving.

"A good _ninja_ lives by his or her instincts. Mine tell me to eliminate her immediately by any means possible before she does anything." Itachi said offhandedly, and the group doubted that he was joking. "But, as I can't do that, I have to settle on finding and ruining any plot she has." He glanced at his watch. "I will escort you back to the Gryffindor common room. It is rather late, and I do not wish for you all to land in detention for being out past curfew."


	3. Ch 3 : Meetings of the Past and Present

Updated 14 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

It was quite in the park. The sun was setting, and all the children who would normally laugh and squeal all around the slide, monkey bars, and sand pit were safely tucked away in their homes, possibly eating dinner. But there was one child left, a boy who turned thirteen just the week previous, and he sat idly at the fountain, waiting. He was a beautiful child, deep coal black hair with ebony eyes framed by thick lashes. His lips were thin, but not in a bad way, and fit his face perfectly. Hair tied back in a simple manner with a simple tie, leaving a few too short strands to fall freely about his face.

But this child was not waiting for his parents to come pick him up and take him home—he was waiting for his new ANBU team, having just received the orders that he was to take over one of the two open spots.

It was no surprise to the child, really. He recently with his assigned chuunin team led them through several missions that were far above the ranking they received, all without faltering. It was only natural that the Hokage promoted him. His father was very pleased with his performance and promotion, but Shisui was disheartened by the fact that they couldn't spend more time together. After all, their plan was just beginning to be pushed into motion, and being bumped up to ANBU slowed down the process with missions, training, and what have you.

Black eyes searching, he eventually landed on another figure, a girl in her late teens who was approaching his spot. She was wearing tight, form fitting black pants tucked under bandage wrapping that disappeared under the top of her ninja shoes. A loose white shirt tucked into her pants with the oddest puffy sleeves and frills at the neck and cuffs certainly gave her an odd look, but it was the her shoulder-length ink black hair, shot through with lime green jets, that made her stand out the most. As she approached, he noted that not only were her ears pierced no less then five times each, but her nose was pierced multiple times as well. If it hadn't been for the shoes, wrapping, the kunai holder on her thigh, and the Konoha headband tied tightly around her throat, he would have assumed she was just a civilian waiting for her equally estrange clique to show up before they went to do whatever civilian teenagers do.

As it was, she gave him a once over with her brown eyes herself, before sitting casually on the fountain, far enough away from him to show she wasn't with him, but not that she thought he was diseased. Despite how... eye catching her dress and appearance was, the child was pleased to note she moved with the definite grace and silence of one heavily trained in taijutsu—the tights she passed off as pants enhanced the tone of her legs to prove that point. Very good.

The two waited in silence for no more then five minutes, when the distant toll of a bell, signifying nine o'clock, struck in the warm, early summer night, and two more figures suddenly appeared on the swings not too far away, almost as if they had always been there. Both were male, but one was older then the other, who appeared to be in his late teens, early twenties. The younger had orange hair that nearly glowed and shot with natural highlights, and the most shockingly ice blue eyes the child ever saw peaking out from under the low headband. He wore the standard chuunin attire, and it only made his brightly colored features all the more predominate. He had a cocky smirk to handsome his face, watching the two figures at the fountain who watched him back. How troublesome.

The other figure was like a cool stream to the radiance of the person next to him, and he stood with calm authority. He appeared not older than his mid-twenties, but gave off a much more mature air. Long, chocolate brown hair was tied up in a high, tight pony tail, bound efficiently with a strip of leather. The headband tied simply around his forehead complemented his jounin outfit naturally, but when his pure, snow white eyes were taken into effect, it was made clear that he was a Hyuuga Branch House member. The iris-less white eye locked with coal black ones, as each of them recognized the other for what they were. The child was surprised, however, to note that there was no instant hate directed to him, merely realization and faint amusement glinting in the faultless orbs. Quite strange.

"When the world was new," The cocky, orange haired youth stated loudly, walking over with his partner to the only other two in the vicinity.

The girl got up and went over to meet him, saying her part, "And all the flowers grew,"

The deep bass of the Hyuuga's voice joined in, "The birds began to sing their song,"

"Crying, 'Let our actions never be wrong.'" The child completed, stopping with the others when they were all together in a loose circle. They were all silent for a moment, evaluating everyone by appearance and presence. The thirteen-year-old was unsurprised when both the strange girl and bright boy looked at him in slight aw, suspicion, and shock.

"Well, we seem to be all here," The Hyuuga stated, drawing attention to himself when no one else seemed to want to speak. "So this is the new team then. And as this is most of our first meeting with each other, let us introduce ourselves; our names, our masks, and our highest abilities so we know where we stand in the group and so forth. What say you?" Everyone thought a bit then nodded in agreement, thinking it was a good plan. The Hyuuga nodded to the young man, who promptly began.

"My name's Kanata Yuu, and my mask is of the Cat. Along with Hyuuga-san next to me, I'm a returning ANBU who was reassigned to this team from my last one. For abilities, I'm just behind the infamous Copy Cat Kakashi in ninjutsu knowledge, and I'm not too bad with the ladies either," He grinned widely and winked suggestively at the only girl, whose eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Says who? Your 'mommy dear'?" She clipped out in a snide tone, wrinkling her nose at the flirt across from her. "Because you certainly don't have a way with me."

Yuu blinked, his smirk dropping at her rude comment, "I have a way with the _normal_ ladies, thanks." Suddenly, his grin popped back up as he eyed her once over, "But I'm willing to bet I can get in with even the weirdest with enough time, babe."

"You wish." She folded her arms across her chest heatedly, glowering at him.

"Careful, girly—I can take you out with both flowers _and_ fists." But then he suddenly had to duck with a yelp and roll away, as a fist rushed up to meet his face. A spark of electricity cackled over the flesh of her hand, sparking randomly as she drew it back to hold it threateningly before her.

"Careful, asswipe—before I shove this where the sun don't shine." She snarled as he reclaimed his spot.

"Oh," He smirked, just a tad wary, but the threat didn't dampen his cocky and flirtatious attitude. "_Electrifying_. I like a challenge, but sorry, I don't do anal."

The as yet unnamed girl made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes, dropping her jutsu as she crossed her arms again. "My name's Tsukyu Shiina, and my mask is of the Dragon. I was just promoted to ANBU from my chuunin team. I specialize in taijutsu," here she shot a glare at Yuu, "and _all_ its jutsu extensions." Then to prove her point, a shiver of electricity ran over her entire form. Unfortunately for her, Yuu didn't seem all that deterred.

"Well," The Hyuuga said, once again bringing attention to himself. The child learned a lot from just quietly watching the two interact, so he hadn't felt the need to break up their squabble. Now, he turned to look at the oldest of the group. "I am Hyuuga Hiaji. As Kanata-san said, I am also a reoccurring ANBU, and I am of the Hawk mask. I have lead teams previously, but my main skill lays in strategy."

"Ne, ne, Hyuuga-san, are you going to run a tight ship with this team like you did that one time I served under you for a mission?" Yuu smiled lazily, stretching his arms behind his head.

Hiaji shook his head. "I may have lead teams before, but I am not the leader of this team, Kanata-san."

"Then," The teenage boy said, brows furrowing in confusion as he looked over to the still glaring girl. "_She's_ the leader?"

She smiled bitingly, "As much as I'd _love_ to have power over you,"

"Oh, a Dom—kinky." He winked at her again.

"And then order you off into a bottomless cliff," She snarled, before turning her head away, "I'm not the captain either. I'd rather worry about my own tasks then make them for others, thanks."

Now he looked really confused, "But then—"

"Pardon me, but I have not introduced myself yet." A new voice finally made its presence, smooth as silk, and as young as the body accompanying it.

"Oh, and so who's our little squirt then?" Yuu smirked; dramatically bending down at the waist to the youngest's level of vision. His smile remained in place, but his eyes showed how unsure he now was regarding the child before him. If _Yuu_ wasn't captain, and _Shiina_ wasn't captain and _Hiaji_ wasn't the captain, then...

"I am Uchiha Itachi, and I am to take up the mask of the Weasel. I am newly promoted, and I am equally good at taijutsu, ninjutsu, and strategy but I excel at genjutsu." He said without faltering as he met the gaze of the older ninja with his blood red, swirling sharingan. "And **I** am your new Captain."

**XXXXX**

The day after, Itachi met Harry after he exited the Great Hall and had grabbed a few bites of dinner.

"How are you going to come with me? Wait outside the door?" He asked as they hurried along the hall.

"No, there is an ability that gives me a very similar affect as the Invisibility cloak. I will be at your side at all times, but do not act as if I am there. Ignore me, and _do not_ speak to me; pretend as if I'm not there at all. Understand?" They had stopped, the office just around the corner.

Harry nodded, then watched fascinated as Itachi ran through a series of seals and completely vanished from sight. "Whoa..."

"I cannot hold this technique forever, so let us get a move on." He whispered in Harry's ear, giving him a slight nudge towards the office.

He followed closely behind Harry, into the office that once had been Professor Lupin's. It had been interesting then, always with a dark creature squirreled away somewhere. Now... Itachi suppressed a shudder of disgust and ignored it. Too much lace for him, thank you, but he _would_ endure it.

He ignored the pleas Harry asked of her, instead scanning the room with his sharingan. Everything seemed normal, except the strange black quill Umbridge just handed to Harry. It had—Itachi couldn't explain it any other way—_dark_ magic twisting all over it, signifying it was not your average quill. And her strange smug attitude was throwing up warning flares in his head.

But he bided his time, waiting and watching as Harry went about to start writing. But soon the magic reacted, and 'I must not tell lies,' was engraved onto Harry's hand. The smell of blood also wafted up to Itachi, and he felt his anger spike.

"Wait," he hissed almost inaudibly into his once charge's ear. He ran an invisible hand lightly over the already healed back of Harry's hand, feeling the dying magic on the flesh. "Do it again," he breathed.

Harry did so, and again the words appeared on the back of his hand. The red flesh took a millisecond longer to heal then the time previous, and Itachi knew it had to hurt the boy.

Well, he certainly wasn't going to allow this. But how to... Ah, that would work wonders. Itachi made a few more hand seals, planning the illusion in his mind as he turned to look at Umbridge. Her bulging eyes glazed over slightly as her grin spread, none the wiser that all she heard, and saw was no longer real.

Shaking his head, Itachi dropped his invisibility and plucked the strange quill from Harry's fingers. "Do not worry," He told the other boy absently when he turned to him, eyes wide in shock that he had just chosen to become visible again in front of Umbridge. "I have placed a _genjutsu_ on her. She just sees and hears you writing with this quill."

"What is that thing?" He asked, rubbing the spot on his hand.

"...I don't know. But, I know it is not something she is supposed to have. I will have to confiscate it." Itachi took one of the quills on her table and also took out his wand. He pointed the wooden tip at the regular quill, and it morphed into a perfect replica of the abnormally sharp, black one. He placed the duplicate in her bag, and put the real one in a pocket of his robes.

"Come on, we do not need to stay here. And you have homework."

Harry scowled lightly as he followed Itachi out of the room, leaving Umbridge smiling twistedly at the spot Harry once sat at. "Man, it sucks now that you're a teacher. You don't have to do homework and suffer like the rest of us." He frowned even more at how much homework he had for his distant O.W.L.s.

"No," Itachi said, smiling slightly over to him. "But I _do_ have to grade it."

**XXXXX**

"Uchiha!" A high pitched voice caused Itachi to pause mid-step, and a near shudder run down his spine. It was a normal reaction, long engraved into him by the various fan girls squealing his name in breathless delight. But now it served another purpose; to warn him of Professor Umbridge.

He turned to face the squat woman waddling up to him, a poisoned honey smile on her face. Only his head and pitch black eyes moved, the rest still in the pose as he had been before; one arm behind his back, the other holding a book in front of him so he could read while he walked. If he had his hand in his pocket, he'd look like Kakashi, only without the porn. "Yes, Professor Umbridge?" He said calmly, blankly. He wondered vaguely what she wanted now, as he knew for a fact she had no idea it was really him under a henge that had taken Harry's place in detention every day but the first. He used her quill, studying it, while writing in the perfect copy of Harry's hand writing. He also got a lot of information about her character, and the pain in his hand was barely registered, never actually breaking the skin to her apparent annoyance. She still had the fake quill, and shouldn't be any of the wiser.

"...U-chi-ha," She panted from her apparently exhausting trot after him, her smile growing as her breaths decreased. "I was wondering... if you can do a small... favor for me?"

He continued to look at her, not replying one way or another. He certainly wouldn't agree before being told what he was to do, as she was obviously hoping. They had a small, silent battle of wills to see who would break the silence first, and he prided himself on watching her crack. "Um, could you predict—"

"No." He cut her off and turned, looking back at his book as he continued walking. Unfortunately, clicking footsteps followed.

"Now, Mr. Uchiha—"

"_Professor_ Uchiha," he corrected instantly, flipping a page with his thumb. "I am not one of your students. Do not refer to me as such."

There was a one-sided tense silence that followed, broken only by her echoing steps. "Professor—" she strained the word, as if trying to coax a toddler out from under the bed so she could beat it, "—Uchiha, I do believe it is quiet rude of you not to help me with this. You are the residential Seer, your reputation precedes you, and I am in bit of a problem. I need to know something, and you are the only one who can tell me. I even asked politely." Bull shit.

"You do not _need_ to know, you _want_ to know. You will not drop dead this second if I do not predict something for you. My art is very temperamental by itself, let alone adding the whims of any and everybody to it. There is a reason there are so few true Seers in the world." He stopped walking and looked down at her, secretly pleased that he was notably taller then the frog-woman. "If you know too much of the future, you forget the present. I don't predict if I don't have to."

Her smile twisted ever so slightly, and he knew she was going to try and trap him. "Are... you saying you can't do it, _Professor_ Uchiha?" Her eyebrows rose a little at the word, as if just saying it to humor him.

But he was unaffected, looking at her with his completely blank face. "I don't like knowing what's going to happen when I, more often then not, can't change a damn thing about it. The first time I predicted the future, my entire family was slaughtered by my cousin." He turned back to his book as he spoke emotionlessly, ignoring how her fake smile froze in its place. "I'd rather discover things only once. Unless the fate of the world resides on you knowing this, _and_ you can prove that, then I have a right to deny your request. Now excuse me, I have plans." He brushed passed her, walking down the steps and out into the clean, fresh air outside.

He closed his book—_Hogwarts, A History_—with a dull snap, stuffing it away in his robes. It was just after lunch, and he was going to watch Ron's first Quidditch practice, like he had been forced to promise when the red headed boy found out he had been given the position of Keeper.

He chose a stand and made his way up, not very surprised to see Team Three (and some girl he vaguely remembered) making very rude comments.

"Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?" She just said.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin." Itachi said, appearing behind them and attracting the attention of all in the field. "We do not accept that type of behavior at this school."

"What! You can't do that!" Malfoy snarled, puffing out his small chest as he glared up at the Uchiha, who stood on a higher level then he. "She's a prefect!"

Itachi calmly regarded him, just a hint of an expression—You-can't-_really_-be-this-stupid,-can-you?—on his beautiful face. "You forget, Mr. Malfoy, I am a teacher. I out rank her, _and_ you."

The boy continued to silently snarl at him, his teeth bared, but couldn't seem to think of a retaliation.

Itachi just blinked at him. "Mr. Malfoy, you may leave, sit down and not utter another peep, or loose _fifty_ house points and land yourself in detention for defying a _teacher_. It is your choice."

Giving one last glare, Malfoy and his team stomped off, down the tower and out of the field. Itachi didn't even turn to watch them leave, instead settling in a seat and calmly observing the Gryffindors resume their training. His keen eyes focused on Ron, who at first was very jittery but began to improve slightly as the practice wore on. Unfortunately, after a mishap and a badly bleeding chaser, the training was cut short.

Ron and Harry zoomed over to where Itachi sat, landing lightly in the walkway.

"Glad you made it, Itachi." Ron said, grinning sheepishly as he walked up.

Harry frowned slightly, "I didn't know you'd want to come. I thought you didn't like Quidditch."

"I don't, but Ronald made me." Itachi said simply before tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, giving the red head a once over. "Ron, stop being so paranoid."

"Er... What?" He asked, clearly confused.

"Wait, wait, wait... are _you_ calling _Ron_ paranoid? Who's the one who told me to put a dagger under my pillow?" Harry said, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Itachi disregarded him. "What I mean is your paranoia that you aren't very good hinders you. Firstly, you were affected by Malfoy's taunts far too much. You know he's a git, and yet you allowed him to get under your skin with little effort and it affected your performance greatly. Secondly, you are an excellent Keeper, but you only give it half of your effort even without someone taunting you in the hopes of saving some of your pride if you do fail. This causes you to fail far more often, and as such makes you give even less of yourself. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy; You fear failing so you only give half an effort, and thus you're not up to par and you fail because of it. I repeat, stop being so paranoid."

The boys stood in silence for a moment, Harry and Ron digesting the hard critique. Until... "You think I'm an excellent Keeper?"

Itachi just nodded once, and a large grin broke out on Ron's face. Itachi was never one to give out idle complements.

"Let us go inside, dinner will be soon." He turned and led them both down the stairs, out of the tower.

**XXXXX**

Itachi went about his small kitchen, retrieving a sake set and some pumpkin juice. He didn't want to drink alcohol, but he desired the distinct motion of pouring one mouthful at a time. He put the main jug back, taking the small bottle and single small cup over to the open door that led to his garden. He sighed as he sat down, already pouring the orange liquid into his cup. Stretching out his legs onto the porch and letting his head rest against the door frame, he nursed the drink as he turned his head and gazed upon the carved faces on his wall in silence, watching the streams of smoke from the incense rise and caress the porcelain.

This place really does change him.

Just two months ago, he was preparing for an intercepting mission with the new team—not his, he would never consider Boar, Swirl and Horse _his_, like Cat, Dragon and Hawk had been—not caring if he made it back or not, and now he had already fallen onto the attentive Jounin instructor role for a group of naive genin. He knew he shouldn't. He'd get attached again, and could get hurt again. It wasn't his job to tag around them making sure they stayed out of trouble anymore. He really had no excuse this time.

"_What would you advise, Hiaji?_" He asked the hawk mask. "_Would you get jealous, Shiina?_" He asked the dragon mask. "_Would you try to corrupt them, Yuu?_" He asked the cat mask.

The silence echoed and he took another drink, suddenly wishing for a hard bite of alcohol to make him forget. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his arms drop and relax at his sides as he zoned so to tune out the deafening quiet and accusing self thoughts.

But then, a pleading yowl made Itachi's eyes snap open. What was that? It came again, along with a scratching at his door. He looked at the wooden entrance; brows furrowed before he easily stood up and made his way over. He threw open the door and looked down into the dark hallway, seeing an older kitten looking up at him with its big, yellow eyes.

"Mrow!" None other then Kneazle-Sasuke said again, hurriedly rubbing against his leg and then standing against it, begging to be picked up.

Itachi, safe to say, was shocked.

He fell to his knees, scooping up the madly purring kitten. She was dirty, matted, bony, and above all else, _bleeding_. Her feet and forelegs were cut, scratched, and over worked until the skin burst. From the looks of things, she had somehow made her way to Hogwarts from Konoha by herself. But how? He knew Kneazles had the ability to know where their home was from any point, but Hogwarts was not her home. Konoha was—he had made sure to press that onto her mind when she first arrived—so she wouldn't wander back to Hogwarts for some estrange reason. Apparently it didn't work.

"Hello, Sasuke," He said quietly, petting her head.

He fluidly rose again, keeping her against his chest as we went into his room so he could clean her, and heal her wounds.

Maybe... Something within him whispered, something that still dared to hope, her home was with him. Just like Sasuke.


	4. Chapter 4 : A Call to Orders and Obey

Updated 14 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

"Well, well, if it isn't Beautiful..." A voice purred out of the darkness of twilight. A masked ANBU, with the visage of a Cat's face, stretched lazily as the figure splayed itself against a large bolder, looking down upon the newest arrival.

The other figure, also clad fully in ANBU armor but with a mask of a snarling Dragon, looked up to the one who called. The person's shoulder length hair was tied back in a tight pony tail, and some how all the bright green stripes normally visible were cleverly hidden in this position. However, the piercings—just visible on exposed ears at the edge of the mask—remained, though they were all changed out to a neutral skin colored metal. "Well, well, if it isn't _asswipe_." She, as the voice revealed with its high tenor tone despite her very toned body, spat out, before ignoring the male ANBU completely as she walked pointedly away from him.

"You know, pet names are a form of endearment." He continued in his purring voice, rolling to his side to continue watching his teammate who sat down on a log a distance away. However, he was successfully ignored by the female in question.

"I don't think Dragon's 'asswipe' counts as a pet name, Cat." A new voice, the deepest of the lot, spoke up as the figure walked in. Once more clad in full ANBU gear, this one had chocolate brown hair and a bird's mask, and was the tallest of them all.

"Hmph, you're no fun, Hawk." Yuu, behind the cat persona, snorted behind his mask as he rolled to his back, folding his hands behind his head and playing with the knot that held his black bandanna over his own strikingly orange hair. He would never admit it, but he was somewhat jealous over the Hyuuga's long, smooth, perfect locks that surpassed even their team leader's hair, which surpassed his own. How they had such hair remained a mystery, as Yuu knew for a _fact_ he took the best care of his hair out of the entire team.

"No, I'm just a realist—you're what some call 'idealists' but most just call idiots." Hawk, also known as Hiaji when not in uniform, settled down not too far away from either Yuu or Shiina, showing he was neutral to their squabbles and was both of their friends.

"Thanks, I feel loved..." Yuu said, sarcasm dripping from his words. Silence prevailed as they waited for their captain in the cooling heat of summer. Unsurprisingly, the cat ANBU was the one to break this. "It's too bad Weasel is a boy. I mean, he's pretty enough to be a girl, so it's _such_ a shame."

"Has it crossed your mind that no matter how pretty he is, that not only is he DEFINITELY a boy, but also just turned _THIRTEEN_?" Shiina spoke up from her spot, and her hands absently played with some fire—throwing it back and forth. "What are you, a pedophile?"

"Hey, age has almost nothing to do with it. We're ninja—we live on the edge of a blade; one wrong step and it's bye bye for us, so enjoy _what_ you can and _who_ you can, _when_ you can, I say!" His smirk was lost on her from behind his mask, but the slight movement of his masked face showed he was following the dangerous ball of fire closely. It wouldn't have been the first time he had been attacked by a jutsu of hers for a stray comment, whether he meant it or not.

"You're a disgusting _pig_, asswipe!" The fire grew in size.

"It doesn't matter any which way," he said while waving her off like one would a fly, though he still watched her carefully, "Sadly, he's a boy—a girly boy, but a boy nonetheless. ...If only he had some nice, _big_—Ah, Weasel-san!" Yuu swiftly stood up from his laying position, saluting his captain who just appeared next to him after dropping the odd groping movements he was doing in front of his own chest. "H-How's it going, heh?"

Itachi looked at him, his face as blank as the mask positioned on the side of his head, but not any less scary. Yuu could sense his doom approaching. "Tonight, we are going to stretch, then you and Dragon-san will spar—no jutsu, no hiding, just pure hand to hand."

The dragon mask turned to stare directly at the cats, and one could _feel_ the smile radiating from her. "Thank you, Itachi!"

"Oh man," Yuu said, taking a step back from both the over eager female and his captain while holding up his hands in surrender. "You're heartless and cruel, Weasel."

"My own personal character has nothing to do with this, Cat-san. Now, Hawk-san," He turned to the much taller man. "You and I will create any type of solid bunshin and use them for strategy practice; we will each have a flag to guard and capture."

"Understood, Weasel."

"Let's get to work," Quickly and efficiently, he had them lined up and doing stretches. No one questioned his authority, not after the first meeting. Upon the advice of his Katana instructor, whom he met earlier that day, he had them each fight him one right after the others. The Hyuuga was first, then the confirmed cousin of Maito Gai (through her mother), finalizing it all with the cocky flirt. Everyone, understandably, held back their most powerful techniques, as it was just a simple spar, but still it was intense fighting that left them each with at least a sprained joint, a burn or two, a swelling bruise, and a cut that sluggishly bled. Except for Itachi, who didn't even have a speck of dirt on him.

Yes, no one questioned his abilities after that.

"Aaaiii!" Yuu's voice called out in the night, showing that Shiina landed another well placed punch or kick.

"I didn't even hit that hard, asswipe! Stop being such a wuss!" Came her responding yell.

Itachi and Hiaji, sitting next to one another as they compared ideas over what happened on their latest mission, looked over to the two still battling ANBU members. Yuu danced around dragon with all the grace and agility as his mask hinted at, but Shiina was truly a sight to behold. Every move was executed in perfect precision, smoothly blending a combination of attacks, and quickly responding to every offensive and defensive move with explosive force. When fighting, Itachi was glad he had the Sharingan and speed on her, truth be told, especially when she loved to add jutsu to her attacks—fire and electricity were her favorites, but she was just as likely to jab with a blade of wind, add mass to her kick with stone plating, freeze with an ice punch, or blast her opponent away with all the force of a typhoon.

Of course, a fighter she may be, but she was not the most observant when it came to flirtatious teasings Yuu normally gave her. It was obvious to the two sitting a short distance away that the boy was over acting every hit to a comical level, and was not throwing all the hits he could back at her. He was not to her level of skill, oh no, but he did had the speed advantage on her which meant a great deal.

Itachi, Hiaji, Kakashi (who Itachi talked with during their lessons and occasional joint mission) and Gai (who heard all about Cat through his cousin) had a bet going to see when they'd get together.

"Take a break and come over here, please, Cat-san, Dragon-san." Itachi called out. It had been two hours already, and it was just supposed to be a quick thing. The standard was that each spar lasted about fifteen minutes, but theirs got longer and longer with each session.

They disengaged quickly and stretched out to cool down, before heading over. Yuu had to dodge a cackling fist for some comment or another during, but over all they came over quietly, which was rare for them.

"Hawk-san and I were going over our last mission." He told them when they had settled down around him. "While we completed it within the requirements set forth, we could have done better. Both Dragon-san and Hawk-san suffered injuries that could have been avoided. Cat-san, you—" Itachi abruptly cut off, freezing for a moment.

"...Weasel?" Shiina spoke up first, just as tense as the rest of the team. Was something amiss? She scanned the area, just the twitch of her eyes and the licking tendrils of her chakra, but she didn't sense anything.

"...The Hokage is requesting my presence." Itachi said, hand running over his mask, making everyone relax from their tensed state. They all knew the odd feeling of having one's mask vibrate when the Sandaime put chakra into their sign names from his scroll. It only worked within the walls of Konoha, however, and it was very rarely used because it eroded the porcelain. For it to be used now...

"But it's not normal mission hours..." She said with the slightest hint of possessiveness in her voice. He may be the ruler of Konoha, but this was _their_ training time. Why couldn't he have done this earlier?

"I bet he's finally gone senile and thinks its midday, or something." Yuu's comment, as normal, was ignored.

It went unseen, but Hiaji's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What could Hokage-sama wish of you?"

Itachi stood and made a seal. "I don't know, but I leave this meeting to your discretion until I return, Hawk-san." And he vanished in a poof of smoke.

**XXXXX**

Itachi calmly handed out the _Dream Oracle _books to his students, brooding on what was going to happen during the class period. This was the class Professor Umbridge had chosen to inspect him and, of course, it was the one with the fifth year Gryffindors. It wasn't even a minute into the class when her ugly head popped up and out of the trapdoor, silencing the once-happily chatting students.

Seemingly carelessly, as if it was perfectly acceptable for her, she snagged a free seat and planted it directly behind his personal chair at his desk. She got out a clipboard from her frilly, flowering pink bag and zeroed her gaze in on him.

Handing the last book to Dean, he turned and made his way to the desk, casually leaning against it and crossing his arms like he would any other day, his back to the squat woman. "Please get out your dream diaries, _minna-san_. Since Professor Umbridge has..." Everyone noted the pause, but only the students could see his face expression—that of slight disgust, though his tone gave nothing away. "_Graced_ us with her appearance this class, we will had a class presentation instead of individual interpretations." The class surprisingly—to Umbridge—started chatting again in excited whispers, looking through their dream diaries in an almost hurried way. Itachi knew that all of his classes loved it when he did presentations, which he rarely did (the only exceptions was when he gave an example of a reading or prediction whenever any class started on a new topic), as they always proved true and was thus a very good treat.

He reached over and grabbed his own volume of the Dream book and opened it, glancing absently at a page. "Now, which of you has had a dream you wish to interoperate since the last class?" He didn't look up as about half of them raised their hands. Slight scratching on paper was picked up behind him. "Of those, who will offer their dream to be discussed?" All of the hands remained raised. More scratching.

"Finnigan-_san_, please stand and read off your dream, and the date it happened." He snapped the book shut, placing it back on its spot on his desk. The entire class besides Seamus got out a sheet and their quill, waiting to take down notes.

Seamus stood from his spot next to Dean, opening his book. "I had this dream just last night, and it was _weird_. It started out normal enough, but I was going down to breakfast by myself wearing muggle clothes..." Without fear or embarrassment in his voice, he easily told of his dream that involved a dragon, a few flying fish heads, and an attacking toaster.

Itachi completely and pointedly ignored Umbridge as he nodded along with Seamus's tale. And when the boy was finished, the entire class turned expectantly to him, not a single word uttered. "You're right, that was a weird dream." Scratches, along with a few snickers through his class. "But you said it happened last night, Finnigan-_san_?"

"Yeah, Uchiha-_sensei_." He said as he sat back in his seat.

Umbridge cleared her throat, but Itachi continued to ignore her. "That would explain a good portion. If you all recall your last year lessons, and have been paying attention in Astronomy, Mars covered Jupiter, and Mercury was in the west sky last night—"

"Professor Uchiha," Umbridge finally spoke, having cleared her throat loudly no less then five times already with no success of breaking his lecture.

"Do not interrupt me while I am teaching my class, Professor Umbridge." He said crisply, not turning to look at her. "Now, when Mars covers Jupiter, it affects mainly those born—"

"Professor Uchiha!" The squat woman nearly shouted angrily, and he was forced to turn and coolly regard her. "While doing an inspection, I will have to ask questions to the teaching in question regardless of the class. Particularly this one, as it's such a 'Temperamental art.'" She smiled a sickening smile, as if enjoying 'putting him in his place' or whatever she was thinking with that smug look.

He just stared at her until the look dropped slightly and she spoke again, "How long have you been doing this job?"

"If you listened to Professor Dumbledore at the Welcoming Feast, he clearly stated I was a new teacher, and that I have just passed my own exit exams." A very short scratch.

"How were you interviewed? Did Dumbledore himself do it?"

"I was tested on the accuracy and knowledge regarding randomly selected choices of my art, and yes, he did." Small scratches.

"What levels have you achieved in what sections for your wizarding exams?"

"I have all the available OWLs at level _O_, and all the available NEWTs also at level _O_."

There was dead silence at this, not even broken by the scratching of her little quill. The entire class, including the frog woman, was shocked at this news—having all twelve NEWTs at level O was unheard of, he was told personally by the Minister of Magic when the man signed the necessary forms for him to be regarded as an Of Age Wizard.

"Who gave you your NEWTs?" She asked in a small, shocked voice, her eyebrows raised in either aw or disbelief.

"Professor Griselda Marchbanks was the only qualified person available for the testing at the time." There was no scratching immediately, and he knew, from Umbridge's eyebrows rising even higher, that her name still seemed to carry good weight in the ministry. "If you are to look at your Ministry records, you'd be able to see the results in detail." He said, getting tired of these probably redundant questions. If the Ministry was at all dissatisfied with his results, then he wouldn't be where he was at the moment.

She looked back down at her notes, composing herself by writing false comments before she asked her next question. "Now, I have to ask about the use of this 'sun' and 'sendsay'..."

"While this has absolutely nothing to do with my teaching ability and thus not under your legitimate scrutiny," He saw her tense slightly in anger at him catching the off remark. "'_San_' and '_sensei_' are terms from my homeland. _San_ is Mr. or Ms., _sensei_ means Professor. Now, do you have any other _on topic_ questions, or may I get back to my job?" His eyes narrowed just slightly, and the room seemingly dropped a few degrees.

"No, you may resume." She said shortly, scribbling furiously at her clipboard.

Calmly, and ignoring the small snickers and whispers dotting through his class, he resumed talking about how the positioning of the planets affected the dream Seamus had, and the symbolism of it all while his students either took diligent notes, or listened intently. "In short, that entire dream meant was that you are trying to decided between two things—what you've been told, and what you've experienced. I, personally, always believe firsthand accounts are better then secondhand." Seamus looked decidedly concentrated, nodding his head to show he knew exactly what Itachi was referred to.

"_Hem, hem,_" A small voice took advantage of his laps of discussion. There was half the class period left, and he was just about to go onto another student's dream. At least she had the sense to not interrupt him again.

"Yes?" While his face and tone were completely blank, the entire room turned from near awed and light hearted to slightly scared and anxious.

A silent battle of wills took place between them, he being rightfully indignant at her interruption and her wanting to force the 'child' to submit to her. He took his pleasure from watching hers bend under his iron will. "Um, I was wonder if you could predict something for me—f-for an example, of course. Dumbledore speaks highly of your skills, and I need to verify them." She stuttered just slightly, but everyone heard it and the class all grinned, glad that Itachi was standing up to her and made her nervous.

He considered her a moment, knowing all eyes were on him and every breath was held. "Very well. I will do an obvious prediction, so I shall scry for you."

The silenced echoed, the only noise was her scratching furiously at the note book as he went to a book case and retrieved the large crystal ball there. After he had carelessly sat at his desk, the foggy-white orb swirling before him, he turned to the woman at his back. "Would you like to request a reading regarding a certain person?"

She jumped at being addressed and blinked at him once, before she plastered on a sugary sweet frog smile. "How about something with..." She scanned the room, before her bulging eyes landed on her victim. "Mr. Potter?"

"Very well," He said again, indifferent to the shocked faces around him as he began to predict.

Harry, from his potion with Ron, only gaped. He knew what that horrible woman was doing—potentially scavenging information for the ministry. But Itachi wouldn't let her... Would he?

He watched with the rest of the class as Itachi placed his hands around the orb and looked into it, his pitch black eyes flashing slightly before dulling as he looked for something no one else could.

Suddenly there was a very strange sensation, as if some sort of energy quickly filled and then was sucked out of the room, like a wave of the tide that led to Itachi. Harry shivered, feeling as if ghostly fingers grazed the small hairs along his spine. He glanced around and noticed no one else had moved or reacted as they watched on as their once-peer teacher looked into the swirling crystal ball with glazed eyes.

The strange air died away as quickly has it came, and Itachi blinked before raising his head, his hands settling on his arm rests as he leaned back into his seat. He didn't speak right away, and everyone was too scared to move, awed of what he had seen.

"Potter-_san_, you can stop being jealous over Weasley-_san's_ and Granger-_san's_ promotion to Prefect—you're going to become the Quidditch Captain next year if you don't slack off and become too cocky."

There was a silence, then—"Woo!" Harry cheered, holding up his arms triumphantly. As if that was a signal, the entire class started talking to each other excitedly, loudly discussing the strange sensation they had felt and having saw a real prediction.

"I do hope that was an acceptable example, Professor Umbridge." Itachi spoke calmly, just loud enough for the woman behind him to hear over the dim roar as people congratulated Harry.

But she chose not to respond, instead hurrying up and out of the class room, muttering that he would receive the results in ten days time. Maybe filling the room with chakra was pushing it for a mere scrying, but it did get her out of the room, no questions asked.

**XXXXX**

Itachi intercepted Harry the next day after his detention with Umbridge. As he had been astounded by Harry's stupidity by landing himself in detention again, he had refused to take his place again because maybe it would 'make it through his thick head that there was a time, place, and method to rebel and he did not follow those guidelines.'

Of course, Umbridge didn't have her special quill or, apparently, the ability to make a new one, so Harry had been forced to do something else then write lines. And by the smell of him, he had disemboweled a few unsavory things.

"Come with me," Itachi said after a quick and shocking Scorgify towards Harry.

He led the slightly miffed and curious boy back to his privet quarters, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

"What's going on? Why are you guys here?" He asked them, brows knitting as Itachi directed him to sit on the tatami mat after he removed his shoes.

"Hermione requested my help. She has an idea, and I agree with it." Itachi said, sitting down as well. He didn't make tea, as it was too late for such things.

At a look, Hermione quickly explained her idea to the two boys (Ron hadn't been told either, but upon finding it out agreed with her as well).

"But why _me_? Why not Itachi?" Harry pointed towards himself then at the Uchiha. "He's a _ninja_, a trained fighter! Remember?"

"Because, as a teacher and as a part of the Order of the Phoenix, my actions are limited." He said simply, distracting them with the coveted position in the Order. They were not ninja, and would not be trained as such.

There was a long pause, while Team Six just stared at him. Then, "You're part of the Order?" Harry asked.

"My role is to protect Hogwarts when there is an invasion. I was not required to join, but I choose to after much deliberation."

Another pause. "Do you... know what the Order's goal is?"

He blinked at them, raising a single eyebrow ever so slightly. "Yes, I do. I am a full member, and I am still a _ninja_—I find out things even if they do not tell me directly. But you can forget about me telling you three, because it's never going to pass by my lips." He said before they could even ask. And as Harry's mouth opened to give an angry retort, Itachi cut him off again. "Just because you fought with Voldemort and saw him rise from the dead does not give you undivided access to any and everything about him, or the fight against him. In _Konoha_, it is quite common for a _ninja_ to accept a mission knowing only the barest essentials, such as where the target is located and how much time they have to kill them."

"...Do you _always_ have to refer things like this to killing?" Hermione asked, a little grossed out.

"Yes. It's simplest, and has the desired affect."

Team Six just sighed in exasperation.

"Now, Harry, I believe you're the best option for the role. You were the best out of everyone, including Hermione and myself." When Harry looked like he was about to protest, he cut him off. "Test results mean little in real life, Harry. When we were actually put to it, in the obstacle course, Hermione couldn't beat the boggart, and I cheated during the entirety of the exam by using my _ninja_ abilities. There's also the fact that only you three in the entire student body know who I really am, and I'd like to keep it that way. From what Hermione has told me, you've done this kind of thing since you've found out what magic is. You've faced it, and know how to beat it. Also, because you're on the same social level as the people you will be teaching, they will take more advice from you then they would a teacher. And, as a bonus, this will help fight against what the _Daily Profit_ says against you, and undoubtedly help Dumbledore as well."

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, face twisted in denial, but he didn't seem to be able to from the right words for a moment or two. "B... but most of that was just—just flukes! I didn't know what I was doing half the time! I—I just... it was luck, that's all! I can't possibly—"

"Harry." Itachi said simply, looking straight at the other dark haired boy. Harry clamped his mouth shut, almost glaring at the ninja. Itachi himself felt rather pleased at Harry's response, and associated it to the fact that he was such a leading figure in their Third year, and now being a teacher only amplified that role. "Over half the battles you fight will be decided by luck alone. However, you do have something that the other students do not. You have what _ninja_ call, in your language, 'Created Instincts.' These are fighting abilities that have not been trained into the person, but form naturally from a series of events—such events as the ones you've been through. A good example is the Triwizard Tournament last year—sure, people helped you somewhat, but they were not in the test—it was just you there. If you did not make a good choice for this, I would not have gathered you all in my room when Hermione approached me earlier regarding it.

"Harry," Itachi said again, and he could see that the boy was torn between listening and storming off. "You know what it is like to face this Voldemort. The other students do not. They _will_ listen and _will_ respect you for this alone."

"H-Harry," Hermione spoke up at Itachi's pointed glance. "Itachi's right. We... we need to know how to face... Vol—Voldemort." She swallowed heavily, and Ron's and Harry's eyebrows rose at it—she had never said his name before. "You, not Itachi, have faced him before and know what it's like, and can prepare us all for the inevitable."

Harry, looking surprisingly blank, flicked his eyes from each encouraging face to another. "I..." he said in a small voice, "I... don't know if I can..."

"You complain about not being a part of the Order, yet an opportunity presents itself on a silver platter and you go all weak willed." Itachi snapped, and watched as Harry flinched expectedly. Break down the spirits, then build them up stronger then before. "If you are really sincere about fighting Voldemort, then you'd take every single change you get, even such a small one like training children to form a resistance. It may be a lengthy and seemingly unrewarding process, but you can chip through even the Great Wall of China with a butter knife if you have enough patience." Itachi sighed, sitting back on his heals, and softened his tone a little. He pet Kneazle-Sasuke as she stretched out next to him, dozing lightly. "If you really would feel better about it, I will sit in a few lessons and help with battle strategies; I can even impart onto you as much defensive and offensive spells I can. However," He said sharply, watching the over eager emotion fill the face of his once charge. "It is necessary to be clear that I am _not_ part of the lead role, or any role of power, in any which way; I am just in the sidelines like the possible students. If this is to work, _you_ have to be the undeniable leader."

A pressing silence settled upon them all, as the sheer weight of Itachi's words came apparent. He was right—he always seemed to be right—about this. A body can only have one head if it is to be efficient in what it does, be it for good or otherwise.

The Boy Who Lived raised his head, eyes flashing with a determination not present before. "I'll do it."

The Ex-ANBU Captain smiled a rare, satisfied smile. "Very good."


	5. Chapter 5 : Meetings of a Different Sort

Updated 14 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

It was around eight on that very Friday before the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, after dinner and allowing some homework time, that Team Six appeared through the trap door of Itachi's classroom. It had been decided that they would all meet here until somewhere better could be found, as not only did Itachi give his permission to use the room—thus circumventing the 'No Magic outside Classrooms' rule, and the other students would feel better in a familiar place—but its position in one of the towers was easy to guard against unwanted visitors. Itachi placed a jutsu at the bottom of the stair well that notified him of exactly who passed its point. That way, if someone like Umbridge or Filch or Malfoy made their way to his classroom, it had been decided that they would all pretend to be receiving a lecture on the position of Pluto and it's affect on various people while watching the ceiling—which Itachi had enchanted to match the starry sky. "Extra Credit" they'd all say. It may not be against the rules to form a club, but Umbridge would not like its formation.

He greeted his friends, then turned back to what he had been doing—grading homework. He didn't lie when he told Harry it was just as bad as, if not worse than, doing the homework itself. But he wasn't doing it simply because he had to as a teacher, he was doing it so it made a very obvious declaration he was just lending out his room—he did not run this show.

Soon enough, there were far more people in the room then probably ever before at one given time. Along with Team Six, from Gryffindor, was Neville, Dean, Lavender, Parvati Patil, Seamus Finnigan (who apologized to Harry before taking his seat); Fred and George with Lee, the Creevey Brothers, Ginny, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina; and from Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood, Padma Patil, Cho Chang—he knew her from the train, but she didn't take his class—and her friend who also didn't take his class, Marcus Belby, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot; and then from Hufflepuff, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley; then summing it all up, one Slytherin who was invited by Itachi personally—Adrian Pucey. He came in last, just after Luna, and the entire room hushed. Adrian looked around him nervously, pausing at the trapdoor, unsure of what to do with everyone's suspicious and somewhat hostile glares.

Itachi looked up at him and gestured to a near by chair, and then addressed the rest of the room. "Pucey-san here is a very good student of mine and I asked him to join us. He's very bright and will be an asset to this." Here he paused, noticing that the others still looked skeptical. "He also thinks that Malfoy-san and Professor Umbridge are both gits and should be promptly kicked out of Hogwarts." The older boy nodded furiously at Itachi's words.

Fred and George gave the Slytherin an identical look over then firmly stated, "You'll do." And, like a signal, the others shrugged him off, and focused on other things. It wasn't trust outright—he'd have to earn that—but they accepted his presence.

Adrian looked over and flashed Itachi a wide, relieved grin, and the ninja nodded in return and went back to his grading.

Soon, everyone had dragged over chairs from where they were stacked up on the tables, which had been moved to the sides of the room for this meeting, and they sat in a rough circle. Most of them had a cup of Pumpkin juice Itachi had set out for them, and all of them were casting curious eyes on Harry.

Hermione started it off, talking about Umbridge and how they need to from a DADA group to circumvent her. Her proposal was interrupted a few times, but eventually it was settled down by Harry snapping at everyone that he didn't want to talk about Cedric, and people settled down to the idea of the group. The meetings weren't mandatory, but signing a contract about secrecy was (Itachi had pressed Hermione into drawing it up the very instant she told him of her plan, making it one that would keep them from any way at all telling about the meetings to someone who didn't already know.). There was a few people who notably looked nervous about that, but Itachi solved it by offering to save keep it for them. That way it'd be accessible to the people who need it for whatever reason, and hidden from those who shouldn't know of it. Everyone didn't resist signing it after, which he was pleased about. It meant everything was that much safer from that horrible woman.

After that, people left, some chattering about how they were sticking it to the frog lady. Fred and George, with Lee as a reluctant follower, went up to Adrian, who was in their grade, and struck up a conversation with the Slytherin while they waited their turn at the ladder. Eventually and non-too surprisingly as all were a part of Quidditch in some way, they drifted the conversation to the recent World Cup and all—including Lee—talked passionately about it. Itachi was glad, as he knew Adrian usually kept to himself when he didn't want to be.

Then it was just him in the room. He finished with his work and placed it to the side, getting up and taking the contract with him. He took out his wand and tapped the paper, casting a spell to make the ink vanish from view. He then flipped it over and wrote a quick Haiku in Japanese Calligraphy on the back (Haiku's are poems/that sometimes do not make sense/Refrigerator) and put it up on a small bare patch on the wall. There, no one will know.

With that, he went down the latter himself, sealed the door, and made his way to his room.

**XXXXX**

"Is everyone here?" Came a scratchy voice. Itachi looked up at it, along with everyone else in the room. They were all seated at a table, some with food in front of them on their plates. It was very good food, Itachi noted, but he himself had only picked at his plate. While being in this meeting did not at all unnerve him, he just wasn't very hungry, and it was pointless for him to eat, besides.

It was just short of twenty four hours after Harry's meeting of the yet-unnamed DADA group, but now Itachi was in an Order of the Phoenix meeting, and he had to fully participate. Some members did not like him joining, mainly because of his age, so he was currently using a jutsu—the same jutsu he used at the Welcoming Feast—that made civilian people look over him if he was not pointed out directly, or made any attention-grabbing sound or movement. It made the meetings go smoother, if he wasn't realized as being there for most of it

His eyes landed on the woman with the abnormally large glasses, who had a quill and parchment poised to take notes on the meeting. He had no idea where the once teacher stayed, but she was 'kept safe' under Dumbledore's protection due to the fact she was the one who predicted the prophecy he heard on that night so long ago. She was allowed into these meetings she couldn't really help to keep her happy, Itachi assumed, and so he put up with her random 'predictions' (comments) about death and such like everyone else in the room.

Everyone nodded at Dumbledore's initial question, "Good. Let's get started then. Anything new to report, Black, Lupin, Arthur?"

Sirius, whose house they were currently in, stated in his gruffy voice. "No, nothing on my end." He looked far healthier then the last time Itachi saw him, his hair neatly groomed and tied back, his clothes crisp and fresh. Itachi had no idea what the man did for a living, but apparently he was good at it. "There has been a strange unrest in the underground, however. I can't figure it out."

"The werewolves are communicating with each other far more then normal. I don't know why, as my connections won't tell me." Remus, still as sickly as ever, spoke up from his spot next to Itachi. They had a very companionable opinion of the other, each being a very calm person by nature, but also possessing a very dangerous natural power. "But a good portion of them seem very happy about whatever it is."

"The Ministry, from what I can tell," Arthur Weasely spoke up, and Itachi noted his likeness to his son, Ronald, "Has been poking about various Order's houses. Thankfully, since they are Out of the Secret, they don't even bother to think of here. And... Let's see... they've also been looking up as much information on your teachers, Dumbledore, as they can. Past students, their own Exam scores, everything. I think they're trying to replace them with Ministry officials."

Dumbledore smiled, "Don't worry. None of us will be fired any time soon; we're facing the forefront of their inspections and all are handling her very well."

Snape, sitting a few chairs down, muttered something about despicable frog women and potions needing frog spleens. Itachi silently promised to help the man if the need ever arose—as much as he disliked him, they did share a mutual enemy and could deal with each other after dealing with her.

"Tonks, Shacklebolt, tell me of your ends."

"Well," Said the royal purple haired girl, who was sitting on the other side of Lupin. "We've been sent out to look at old Death Eater's houses, and look into their recent activities and such. Same as last time."

The man who's skin still unnevered Itachi slightly with its very dark complexion, spoke up with his deep, calming voice. "I've been hot on the trail of Bellatrix, who we all know disappeared from Azkaban to help You-Know-Who rise again, despite what the Ministry says publicly." Here he nodded over to Black, "Unlike our fine fellow here, I'm certain that there was outside influence, possibly You-Know-Who himself, that caused the Dementors to release her. All of them, however, claim that she died and was buried on that rock. Regardless, I've not been able to find hair nor hide of her. It's as if she disappeared off the face of this earth."

The entire room had grim faces after Shacklebolt's report, all but Itachi, who kept his face very carefully blank. No one outside the Order's inner circle, not even Harry who was _there_—whom told Dumbledore of the strange, ever cloaked woman who helped Voldemort to begin with—knew it was Bellatrix who had allowed Voldemort to rise again. The Ministry refused to even admit she was alive and thus escaped from their precious Azkaban.

"Indeed," Dumbledore did not have the normal twinkle to his eye, but he pressed on regardless. "Severus, what have you discovered?"

"The Death Eaters are gathering, and planning something." Unlike his father, Itachi could never figure out what Snape was thinking, or if he was lying or not; he could only see emotion if it wasn't hidden at all, such as his loathing for Harry. It worried the Uchiha, but he didn't show it. He already presented that fact to Dumbledore, who assured him of Snape's loyalty. Itachi respected Dumbledore so in a round about way, it meant he trusted Snape. "As I'm not within the innermost circle again yet, they've not told me anything regards to it. I have been feeding them false information in regards to our efforts, and it's possible they've discovered that, though I doubt it." The grim silence became even more present.

"Very well. Mr. Itachi," Everyone who didn't look at him before now had their gazes locked on him. Some were suspicious, others doubtful, but Trelawney, Remus, Sirius and Snape were respectful. The two Aurors in the room were wary of him, as they knew him as the infamous Mr. Weasel ('Mr. Itachi' was a play on that, and a private joke within the Order) and after actually confirming that Itachi could do things that even _they_ couldn't do, made them all the more nervous around him. They, like the Ministry, had no idea where he really came from, only that he was from 'Japan', and was one of their mysterious wizard fighters. Thankfully, the wizards from Japan in this world were very shut off from everyone else, and no one really knew anything about any one of them. Dumbledore had called in a favor from a wizard friend over there, and false identity information was sent over for Itachi. To the ministry, he was a family-less foreigner who came here to escape the ghosts of his past. And of the Hogwarts Professors, only McGonagall knew that Konoha was more then a closed off place in Japan, and only Dumbledore knew how to get there. Itachi had been pleasantly surprised when he found out the full extent what the teachers at his school actually knew about him. "Could you—?"

"Dumbledore," Molly Weasley, from across the table, spoke up before the Headmaster could finish, and most everyone's attention shifted to her. "I'm still not certain about, you know, about Itachi being here when we're discussing what we are." She glanced at him, possibly seeing his pursed lips and narrowed eyes, but turned back to the elder wizard regardless, "I mean, he's just a child—"

"Please, Mrs. Weasley, do not refer to me as such." Itachi said in a very firm, cool voice. "I have been trained all my life to fight in any situation, from a small bar scuffle, to war. I have killed before, _many_ times. _I am __**not**__ a child_." He locked gazes with her, his red sharingan spinning in his agitation—it was not the first time she had tried to baby him and belittle his abilities, and he was finally sick of it. "In case you've forgotten, _again_, not only have I passed every single one of your pathetic little exams at the highest level, but also possess the unconfirmed Order of Merlin, First class; the highest award one can receive here, so I'm told..."

"Hey, she's just trying to protect you, show some respect!" Bill Weasley barked out, and his father put in his heated agreement as well.

"I will show her the same respect she has shown me!" He snapped at them in retaliation, before jerking his head back to the woman in question. "I have the strength, agility, speed, knowledge and _experience_ any one of you possess. If anyone shouldn't be here, it should be _you_. I respect you for what you are; a house wife and a mother. But you will _**never**_ be a Councilor of War." He sneered slightly at her. "To our cause, you're just a side-line civilian who cooks for us."

"Itachi." Dumbledore said in a warning tone. The ninja looked over to the old man, and a tense, timeless moment passed in the room before the young man's eyes darkening back to their normal coal and his face fell back into its blank expression. "Calm down. You are right, she should not treat you as a child, but if you continue on as you have, I will ask you to leave."

The silence in the room dragged on, with all eyes on either the oldest in the room, or the youngest. No one knew if Dumbledore meant leave the meeting, or leave the Order.

"Hn," Itachi finally said, looking away. The whole room breathed easier, but Molly got up shaking and left the room without a word. Trelawney was the only one to get up and follow after her. The meeting was too important for anyone else to.

"Now, please continue with your report, Mr. Itachi."

"_Hai_," He said promptly. Interlacing his hands on the table, he began as if the whole incident never took place, coolly ignoring every person in the room other then his employer, yet speaking so everyone could clearly hear. "Nothing much of note has happened lately; we've already addressed and gone over Professor Umbridge's punishment method at the last meeting, and since then she has not gone back to it, confirming my belief she acquired the quill from someone else. Based on another student's experience, nonetheless, she has begun some other method equally undesirable; I do not know exactly what it is, but I will try to discover it sometime in the near future. However, more importantly Mr. Harry Potter and his friends Mr. Ronald Weasley and Ms. Hermione Granger have recently formed a study group—"

"I fail to see why this is relevant," Snape interrupted in his bored tone. Others in the room had already tuned out, as listening to the day to day life of Harry Potter was the dullest of all reports, if not necessary.

"A Defense Against the Dark Arts study group." Itachi finished, locking gazing with the other ink black eyes. "The plan is to circumvent Professor Umbridge's ban on practicing Defensive and Offensive spells in preparation of standing against Voldemort." He ignored how half of those present flinched at the name. Now he had the full attention of everyone in the room once again. "I was able to—with the help of Ms. Granger—create a secrecy contract that is magically binding so our efforts will hopefully not be uncovered, but it is no guarantee. Quite a few students, from every house, have already joined in this group; though I will refrain from saying names due to a contract on my own part. I believe this is a good idea, and while I will take no part in the organizing, leading, or training in the group, but I have allowed them to meet in my room until something better comes along. Due to the nature of these meetings, my room is hardly suitable, but it is all we have at the moment that is able to be secured against unwanted intrusions. Mr. Potter, as the best at DADA as well as his experience with the Dark Arts, is the head of this group and teaches the other students. Other then that, there has been nothing new of interest that has made its appearance."

"James would be so proud of him," Sirius said smugly, prideful in his god-child. "Stick it to the man, Harry!"

Dumbledore nodded, somewhat to himself. "I agree with you, Mr. Itachi, this is a good plan and it should continue. Not that we have much control over what the students do in their own time, but you yourself may continue on as you have in regards to their study group. While I respect your opinion on helping the group, I ask of you to please reconsider teaching them some self-defense, at least; we need to prepare ourselves in any means necessary." He raised his eyebrows, pressing home the point a little farther—like he had been since Itachi had been hired. But the young ninja remained firm in his belief, and refused to teach the knowledge of his ancestors. "And, if you are to find a place better suited to these meetings on Hogwarts grounds, you may use it to your full extent."

Itachi nodded once.

"Now, if that is all we have to report at this time," Dumbledore looked around, but no one spoke up. "We can move on to discussing matters. As Lupin, Snape, and Black reported, there has been abnormal activity within the dark forces as of late. Obviously, Voldemort's rising is the cause of this, however it is happening at a faster pace then I both would like, and thought possible..."

"Yes, you know my dear cousin likes to keep a tight shift," Sirius snarled from his spot, sounding similar to the dog he changes into.

"Be as it may, in response to this occurrence, we must begin taking stronger actions against them as well, though I am at a loss of what to do short of full out war. Does anyone have any suggestions as to what we should do?"

"I can speak to the goblins again, and ask about where they stand if one of You-Know-Who's supporters go and make large promises to them." Bill Weasley spoke up.

"That would be well advised. I will have Sybill write up some possible Goblin artifacts we can return if we ever need to counter bribe."

"How about we just pick off the Death Eaters one by one?" Black growled hopefully.

"Oh, _brilliant_ plan, dog-boy." Snape sneered, and instigated a glaring contest. "And draw attention to us until we're all taken out and there is NO Order left? Only _you_ would suggest something so idiotic." He and Sirius got into an argument where there was much bickering and insulting going back and forth, but they were ignored with the practice ease that clearly illustrated often they fought.

"Further our contacts by feeding them more, mostly useless, information about us?" Tonks said, fingering her abnormal colored hair.

"That's a good idea, but I say we spread the order into subdivisions—the inner circle, then our main force, and then our trainees." Lupin spoke; Shacklebolt nodded his consent to that plan. "That way we have a larger force to use, without risking a real leak, or a traitor."

A few more ideas were tossed up and discussed, with Snape and Black nearly coming to blows before Dumbledore broke them apart, and all the while Itachi thought on the situation. He put what he knew against what he was told, and frowned at the picture it showed.

"Pardon me," He said in his normal voice, but still the conversation room all died off at his words. He may be a child to most of them, but he still was acknowledged to be very powerful and intelligent, and his words were at least listened to with respectable silence the few times he spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Itachi?"

"Why don't we just kill this Voldemort? Surely your wands with their spells can handle a kill. Professor Snape," He looked at the blank man, "Would be a good choice to do this, if he ever saw Voldemort face to face."

"Mr. Itachi," Shacklebolt spoke up, and Itachi's pitch black eyes turned to look at him. "You-Know-Who has already survived one Avada Kadevra, and it is a safe bet to say he would survive another one."

"Why is that?" He asked in return, but it was directed to the whole room. "From what I have been told, and what I have seen during my spells training, the Killing Curse should kill its target without question. How could he possibly survive a single encounter?"

"If we knew that, Mr. Itachi," Dumbledore said, a small sad smile tugging at his mouth, "We wouldn't be here discussing this."

"Well, we are all intellectual here, so let us figure it out." Remus spoke up, catching onto what Itachi was doing. "What does the Killing Curse do?"

"It kills." The 'duh' was silent, but nonetheless present in Snape's remark.

"No, really? I thought it conjured _bunnies_ and _puppies_." Black said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Hm," Shacklebolt ran a hand over his face as he thought, "As Snape said, it kills; the body—be it plant, animal, or person—it is cast on is made dead. The heart stops, the breathing stops, the brain ceases all activity—all bodily functions stop instantly."

Like a light, a thought clicked in Itachi's mind. "What about the person's soul?" Funny how it was because of Orochimaru that Itachi thought of it. Itachi had encountered the Snake Sannin after he returned to Konoha during a mission, and had been given an offer. Naturally, Itachi refused and attempted to take down the infamous missing ninja, but unfortunately, the retched snake slithered out of his grasp, taking—Itachi ruthlessly cut off the thought.

Sirius snorted, "Ol' Voldy doesn't _have_ a soul." But most of the others in the room had fallen into contemplative silence and ignored him.

Itachi, however, sighed in an annoyed way towards the once criminal. "What are you, one of my slow students where I have to explain _every single thing_ for you to understand?"

Black glared, but Itachi continued on, closing his eyes briefly and interlacing his hands on the table as he went into lecture mode, glad of the distraction explaining provided. "A soul—taking out all religious aspects—is a mass of energy that one being possesses throughout their life. If it is forcefully removed against the user's will, they are worse then dead—a living shell with no hope to get that energy back. However, if a piece of their soul remains behind, then the rest of their soul can return to it and become whole again, or simply remain on this plain. If a person dies, sometimes their souls remain on this plain of existence as 'ghosts,' which apparently can last for a very long time if one takes Hogwarts dead residents into account. This points out the fact that the soul is a set amount of energy; it neither grows nor depletes on its own. From my homeland, there is one who some how manipulated his soul to be able to leave his chosen vessel at will, and was able to use this ability to switch bodies so he would stay youthful forever. However, he can still be killed and not come back, unlike your own snake-villain."

Itachi took a sip of his pumpkin juice with his eyes closed again, completely at ease, as if he was discussing Tarot reading to his first years. Everyone else listened with rapt attention. "This, to my belief, shows that the soul can be altered at the user's will. I don't know how this is done, but it has been proven possible, so I believe Voldemort has done this." Itachi opened his eyes and looked directly at Dumbledore, "Surely something like a soul—or part of one, at least—can't go unnoticed for long. Has there been anything, anything at all, which could possibly be a piece of a soul, shown up since Voldemort fell from power?"

A long silence descended, and everyone fell into their own thoughts. The old wizard's own face got grimmer and ashier as the seconds ticked by, until he looked all his hundred plus years. "Indeed..." He said, his voice full of grim conviction. "I believe some things have..." He took a long, weary sigh as a hand came up to rub at a temple. Itachi felt a pang of sympathy for this old man for having to bear so much stress and knowledge, even though his face revealed nothing. Another length of time passed, when everyone present digested this thought. Itachi glanced at his watch, and noticed it had been close to three hours since he arrived here.

"Mr. Itachi, I believe we all owe you great thanks. It surely would have taken us an indiscernible amount of time more to figure this out on our own." Dumbledore ran a withered hand over his face and partially down his long, white beard that had seen better days, before again sighing a long, tired sigh. "Let us think on this on our own time, and try to find out any evidence that can support this reasoning. I will inform the others of what transpired in this meeting, and we will meet again sometime in the near future to discuss what we have uncovered. I will contact you all in the same method as before. You are dismissed."

One by one, everyone stood up and left the room, most in perfect silence, though the two red-heads shot Itachi a parting glare on behalf of Mrs. Weasley. Itachi knew they were all going to Apparate back to where they came from (Sirius being the exception, of course, as it still was his house), much like how they came here to begin with. Itachi couldn't do the Apparate technique that nearly all older wizards do, as he couldn't copy it with the Sharingan like other spells. Instead, he did a sort of jutsu-spell combination to get the desired effect. If anything, it was a severely bastardized form of the Yondaime's famous Yellow Flash jutsu. The advantage of it was that he could do it to an extent within the boundaries of Hogwarts, but the down side was that he had to leave a chakra marker in the general area of where he wished to go. If he had to go somewhere he never left a marker, then he'd be screwed, crudely put. But that wasn't at the forefront of his mind at the moment.

"_Dumbledore_-_sama_," Itachi said. He and the older wizard were the only ones left in the room, and while the Headmaster had started to leave, Itachi hadn't even stood from his seat.

"_Yes, Itachi-san_?" Dumbledore said in Japanese. If Itachi called him 'sama', it was their cue to speak in the rarely understood foreign language.

"_I still don't trust the potions master._" Itachi refrained from saying names, as they could still be understood if someone was listening in. "_I can't read him, so I can't determine if he is lying or not._"

But Dumbledore just smiled, though it seemed slightly off to the ninja. "_Don't worry, Itachi-san, I trust Snape fully and with my life. You have nothing to worry about. Oh, and can you tell McGonagall that I'd like to speak with her at the normal spot?_" He changed the subject with practice ease, but Itachi was not strayed from the thought.

The boy was silent for a moment, just looking at the wizard. "Hn," And he made a seal, making the kage bunshin disappear in a puff of smoke.

The real Itachi, sitting hundreds of miles away at a table in the Three Broomsticks, paused from taking a drink at his Butterbeer, his mug half way to his lips.

"Something wrong, Professor Uchiha?" A voice broke him out of his reviews of the information gathered by the shadow clone. Itachi looked up at Professor McGonagall, and shook his head slightly, not even a quick look at the third (unwelcome yet invited) part of their group.

"No, it is nothing. I was just remembering that I had forgotten to put out the special meditation incense from my last class. I have to pick some up, as it was my last stick."

"My, my, Professor Uchiha," Umbridge said in her sickenly sweet, high pitched voice, "how irresponsible of you. What if it had been a candle instead and you burned down all of Hogwarts because of that mistake?" She raised her eyebrows in fake shock and worry.

"Considering the amount of anti-fire spells on everything there," He said in a cold, blank voice, "and that even fully blazing hearths are left to burn on their own, your worry is misplaced. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go before the shop closes." He left his mostly empty mug at his spot, and casually placed a silver coin next to it. It still felt weird to leave a tip for a good waitress, as it would have been an insult in Konoha, but he followed McGonagall's previous example well.

"Wait a moment, Professor, I will go with you. I am finished with my drink anyway, and we can walk back together." She left her own coin next to her tank, and then rudely and pointedly followed him out of the emptying tavern without a glance to Umbridge. Neither of them enjoyed her presence, but they had been selected as the decoys for the meeting as Umbridge wouldn't possibly think that the two—notably close to Dumbledore—would miss such an event.

It was beginning to get late in the bar, and a good portion of the students had already left to go back to Hogwarts. Most of those remaining were older students, who took advantage of the relative privacy and sat in couples. None of them spared the passing teachers a glance, but Itachi saw that a few moved much closer to each other once they had gone by.

He waited until they were safely half way to the shop, with no Umbridge in tow, before he spoke again. "The meeting is over. Professor Dumbledore will wish to see you immediately upon your return to the castle to brief you. He will meet you at the normal location."

Her lips pursed in a slightly grim line, but she just shook her head. "I still don't understand how you can be at two places at once, without the use of a time turner, and then know everything that occurred in both places instantly."

He smiled slightly, "A good _ninja_ never reveals their secrets." With that, they entered the desired shop, and dropped all conversation.


	6. Chapter 6 : Mind and Control

Updated 21 Jan, 2012

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Itachi's eyes snapped open and he was instantly awake, two kunai appearing in each of his hands as he felt a chakra pause at his door. He sat up on his futon just as someone knocked, his comforter falling about his bare waist, looking to where the noise came. He got up and strode over to his entrance. He switched his kunai to one hand, and opened the door, but there was no one there on the other side. His sharingan eyes quickly flared into life, but he blinked shortly after, his eyes fading back as he stepped aside to let Harry in.

"Itachi," The other boy said as he hurriedly took off his invisibility cloak. "I wanted to ask—Oh," he said, blinking at him, "were you asleep?"

Itachi gave him a pointed annoyed look as he went to his refrigerator, setting his kunai on the counter as he walked by it. He wore nothing but loose, baggy black pants that were held up by a wide black sash, leaving his toned chest and back, with all their scars, bare to the air around him. His hair was also loose, hanging freely over his shoulders and brushing his back.

Harry smiled sheepishly as he took a seat at the counter, "Sorry, I can leave and come back tomorrow, if you want." His eyes settled on the large, blooming burn across the ninja's lower left back, and he winced in sympathy, but was inclined enough not to comment. Still, it made Itachi decide to put on his light robe, to hide his scars, to hide his past.

"That is unnecessary," Itachi said as he retrieved a bottle of Butterbeer. "If it is important enough that you were to risk your Quidditch Captain's wrath coming here, then I can stand to loose an hour of sleep." He set the bottle down in front of Harry, tapping it with his wand to heat it up (His mother trained him to be a good host, no matter the situation) before padding silently over to his futon and picking up the folded navy blue yukata next to it. He put the cotton robe on, tying it in place with another wide black sash, before taking a seat next to the other boy.

"Thanks, Itachi." Harry took a long drink from the warm beverage, sighing contently before he began. "Still sorry I woke you, though, I forgot it was so late." He started off explaining how Sirius talked with him through the fireplace instead of through owl, because Hedwig was intercepted, how Hermione reacted to Sirius's joy at their study group, how Fred and George had boils in unsavory places during practice ("That's disgusting, Harry. And you've gone off the point." "Oh, right, sorry."), and general animosity to Umbridge. Itachi listened passively, occasionally nodding or commenting on one thing or another. He could tell that Harry had something of more importance to tell him, and he would wait patiently for Harry to come around. His obvious reluctance to talk of it though his persistence to get to it showed Itachi that, while he no longer was with Team Six most, if not all, of their waking moments, he was still highly respected for his opinion. It made him smile faintly.

"Oh, I found a place where we can have the meetings." Harry grinned widely, proud of his find. He had already been there just before coming here, and it was perfect—just as Dobby described. It took passing by the place three times to get it to work, but it did and it was great.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Dobby—a house elf I know, I'm not sure if I told you of him before, but anyway—said it's called the Room of Requirements, and it's just that—a room that generates anything you require. You have to pass by it three times concentrating on what you need, and then you open the door and go in, and it's there! Cool, huh?"

Itachi's eyebrows were indeed raised higher on his head then normal. "That _is_ a good find..." And not just for your needs. His mind ran through possibilities—he could take up his actual training (in addition to his morning routine) again so he didn't loose his edge. He may never be going back to Konoha or face a _real_ ninja again, but he still loved having the physical abilities of a ninja. And he was paranoid, he finally admitted.

"Yeah, and not many people know of it, or how to actually go to it, so that makes it even better." Harry took another drink, and set the bottle down with a small _clack_. His smile slowly slipped off as he stared at his Butterbeer, and Itachi knew he was going to get to the real reason he was woken up at (he glanced at the clock on the wall and quickly calculated how much time had already elapsed) one in the morning.

"Itachi..." he said, still fiddling with his bottle as the ninja looked over at him. "You know how we're working on... dream interoperations, right?"

Itachi looked away and 'hmed' thoughtfully. Placing his elbows on the counter and interlocking his fingers before his mouth, he looked like he was considering the question when in reality he already had a strong thought on the answer. "I have noticed..." He said after a moment in a quite voice, "That you have never entered a single dream in your diary. I assumed that there was a very good reason this is so, and did not bring it up as you followed the rules I had laid down."

Watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, the boy lifted his bottle but set it down without taking a drink, opened and closed his mouth a few times before actually speaking. "See... I've been having these... dreams. Only they're not really dreams... I think."

"You've been having full predictions?" Itachi's eyebrows were raised again as he glanced over. If Harry was a Seer, that'd be news to him.

"Yes, no, maybe, I dunno." Harry sighed exasperated. "I don't think they are, but they could be, I guess."

"Explain, with as much detail as you can." He turned to fully face the student. Harry had his full and complete attention now. He listened with undivided attention to the supposed 'dreams' the wizard in training had, and (with a little prompting) about all the incidents, both distant and recent, that Harry's scar hurt.

Harry finished, and Itachi did not respond right away. Instead, a very long silence passed, with Itachi staring at nothing as he idly rubbed his chin, lost in thought. Eventually, however, he grimaced and rubbed at his head with a hand. He sighed and turned back to the other person in the room. "Have you told anyone else of these?"

"I've told only Ron, really. I also told Dumbledore and Sirius, but not lately."

"What were their reactions?"

"Well, Ron says I'm reading Voldemort's mind, but I think it's more like I read his mood, or something. Sirius just refers to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore tells me not to worry about it." He said resentfully. This obviously was important, and shouldn't be brushed off!

Itachi pursed his lips, for more then one reason, as he chewed on that bit of information. They weren't predictions, that was for certain. Dreams were your subconscious taking over and reviewing information from the day, or days, previous. Rarely did a prediction actually happen in a dream _instead of_ in waking moments. Most of the time, when the person thinks they had a prediction in their dream, it was just the subconscious taking an unnoticed prediction they had in waking moments and making it more obvious. Itachi couldn't discount that Harry could have a slight connection—magically, mentally, or something to that effect—to Voldemort, it made things bad over all, as that would mean Voldemort had the same reactions; whenever the pouty boy was abnormally cranky, or was pleased over a girl, undoubtedly the snake man knew about it. ...Hm...

"What's so funny?" Harry asked sourly as Itachi suddenly snorted, choking back a laugh.

"Nothing, just a stray thought." Itachi cleared his throat pointedly, blinking back tears which sprung up because of the sheer force he had to use to keep his humor in check. Really, it wasn't that funny, but Itachi just had the sudden image of Orochimaru, in the middle of a fight, suddenly knowing about the angst filled love-life of a fifteen year old. And, combined with the seriousness in which this conversation was in, as well as the hatred Itachi felt towards Orochimaru, it simply was almost too much for him to handle.

He shook his head and refocused his thoughts, turning to look at the (still indignant) face of Harry once more. "Those dreams you are having are not predictions. I don't know why Professor Dumbledore is not reacting more, but I will not make the same mistake he is. Now, I am no expert on mind control. There is a clan in my old village that are, but I don't know their secrets. I do know how to check for mind-tampering, however."

Harry's eyebrows bunched, "You think my mind's been messed with? Is it the reason why I've been having these things?"

"It is a possibility, yes."

"Can you make them stop?"

He looked away, away from the almost hopeful, pleading look on the other boy's face. "I won't lie to you, Harry: I hate magic. It confuses me as there is nothing really _set_ with it. What means something with one person changes with another for no apparent reason. A spell can be cast that some spells can counter, and others cannot, but spells in general can do anything. A certain potion brewed on a full moon's night creates a powerful poison, but if it was made at less then half-wane, or during daylight, it creates a very strong aphrodisiac. My own class, for example, deals in nothing but omens, riddles, metaphors, and imagery! Being a ninja, everything we do can be explained by two things—our physical abilities, and our _chakra_. Both of which are mainly controlled by the amount of energy and training we put forth into them. _Chakra_ and physical ability—_anything_ we do can be explained by those two things. And with the _sharingan_ I can literally _see_ all of this; I can see _why_ and _how_ people are doing things. But with _magic_..." Itachi shook his head, sighing. "I can _see_ it working, but I don't know _how_ or _why_ it is possible that it is.

"Harry, I can't explain why you're having your visions. I'm not even sure if this will work to _detect_ if someone has tampered with your mind or not. This is a _jutsu_ from my homeland that might show some evidence that someone has been putting these things into your mind. If, indeed, no one has been tampering with it, then the only explanation I can give you for their existence is 'magic', and I must request of you to go to Professor Dumbledore."

"But Dumbledore hasn't done anything about them!"

Itachi scoffed, "Somehow, I think he doesn't know all the details. It is obvious to me, at least, that something abnormal is happening. You are not equipped to handle prophestetic dreams; I'm pretty certain you don't have the Sight at all. So the fact that you're having these dreams, which—while not prophesies—are a power only Seers should have, means that there is most likely another force playing with them. I do believe Professor Dumbledore can and will help you if I cannot." At the other boy's bland stare, Itachi huffed a little, not quite a sigh, "However, if this does not work, and you have fully explained the details to the Headmaster and he _still_ does not do anything, I will fully take the accounts in hand." Harry looked thoughtful at this, and then nodded his consent. "Now, let us move over here and get started."

Itachi got up from his seat and moved to his slightly messy futon, sitting down on his heals. Harry initially mimicked him, but then quickly switched to crossing his legs as it was easier for the English boy. Itachi motioned him to turn around, so his back was to him. "This is probably going to feel strange, but it shouldn't hurt. Notify me if it does." And with that, he thought of the jutsu, remembering the seals and how to manipulate his chakra, and soon his hands were encased with a visible haze of pure white. It was a simple jutsu created to do exactly what he told Harry it was for—to check to see if a mind had been tampered with. While the Yamanaka were the only mind controllers in Konoha, it was not a blood-line limit, and a few other ninja villages also had their own special clan devoted to the ability. There also were jutsu that floated around that could forcibly extract information from someone—a slight variation of mind control. So Itachi—as an ANBU Captain—was required to learn the ability so he could guarantee that one of his team members hadn't been taken control of or had leaked information if they had been captured.

He placed his glowing hands a couple of inches from Harry's head, closing his eyes to concentrate on what his chakra were telling him. Hm... he was looking for a type of hole. The last time he had used this technique, it had been in practice off of someone who had been momentarily possessed by the head of the Yamanaka clan. When someone was possessed, their mind had to be breached, which created a hole both in and out of the mind for a week or two after the event. A good possessor, so it had been explained to him, could not only make extremely small holes, but nearly exactly line up their entrance and exit so it appeared the same hole, so as to create chaos and distrust among the enemy.

However, what he found was both similar, and dissimilar to any he had seen before. There was a hole, but it was... old, almost like Harry's mind had grown use to it and incorporated it into it's being—sort of like a piercing. And... Itachi focused solely on his chakra control, feeling the strangeness of the taint... Was that a... anchor? He couldn't describe it as any other thing, but there was a small tendril of magic—not chakra—that extruded out of Harry's mind and extended as far as Itachi could sense it. It was sloppily done; crudely inserted and poorly made, just enough for it to keep from falling apart on itself. It wasn't something the ninja ever saw before—mind possession left no trace but the hole. And he doubted anyone else even knew of its existence; they had no ability to sense for mind control, which is why their own spell-forms of it were so difficult to discover.

It had to go. Carefully, ever so carefully, Itachi gripped the strange petrusion with his chakra as close to the base as he could, and then slowly fed his own energy into the 'string,' one tendril at a time. His eyebrows bunched as he concentrated, focusing his chakra into one spot in the string. Slowly but surely he continued to further grasp the magic and feed his energy into he end that was to be disconnected, so as to not allow it to just reattach itself, until finally, with a large breath of air, Itachi yanked.

The magic snapped audibly, and Itachi was quick to securely grip onto the suddenly writhing cord with both his chakra hands. He was just about to attach it to something nearby when it _attacked_.

Pain burst into his mind, surging freely with anger and hatred, making Itachi gasp and collapse onto his futon, clutching at his head as he curled into himself. The magic tried attaching itself to Itachi, but his trained and engraved mental defense flared into life and kept the probing magic at bay, but it couldn't block the waves and waves of agony and loathing and _evil_ that flowed through the connection into the ninja. Who ever it was that was on the other end of the connection—and Itachi had a _strong_ suspicion who it could be, who it _had_ to be—was suffering under the pain as well, was confused as to why and how it was happening, and was forcing his hatred-filled magic along the line to find the problem.

Gritting his teeth against the sensations, Itachi pushed the tendril to the palm of one hand, making it glow a muttled grey with mixed power as he held it far away from him. He formed a half ram seal with his free hand, and he slammed the glowing, chakra enhanced palm into a helpless plant that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fusing the end of the magic into the living cells of the potted plant, Itachi cut his chakra free and rolled away from the writhing, searching link.

"Itachi, Itachi!" The aforementioned ninja jerked his head around from the glowing plant to the worried face of Harry, and just realized that the other boy had been calling his name for a while. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Itachi gulped a few more breaths of air, wiping at his sweating brow as he adjusted to the sudden loss of the vivid feelings the magic had given him. It felt like someone had been trying to split his head open with a sledgehammer—crude, sloppy, inefficient, but all around painful. He brushed away the hands that were fretting around him, "I'm fine, don't worry so." He shook his head, and sat up straighter, looking into the worried green eyes of his once charge. "And what happened is that I removed Voldemort's link from you to that Clivia miniata over there."

Harry's face paled, and he looked to the slowly fading houseplant with renewed apprehension. Itachi recaptured the boy's attention and directed him back to sit again as the ninja renewed the jutsu to search out any lingering traces. He replaced his glowing hands to begin feeling out the area again, but paused when he saw Harry tense. "Does this hurt, Harry?" Did Harry feel the unyielding pain as well? Itachi frowned; he had been too focused on his work then the sudden shock to realize his surroundings. He _really_ needed to train.

"No, it didn't, it just... feels weird, like you mentioned earlier." The frown remained and Itachi didn't comment, but he went about very mindful to the slightest twitch. He found the anchor again, and was quick to remove the slowly shriveling thing. He stimulated the area around the hole so it would heal over, and make re-inserting another link that much more difficult. He made a mental note to himself to check on it at a later date as he once again dropped the jutsu.

"Alright, I've done all I can, and I believe you shouldn't be getting any dreams any time soon. Come to me immediately if you ever get even the slightest twitch of your scar, however."

"How can you be so sure it's gone?"

Itachi smiled with no emotion behind it. "I'm not, that's why you've got to come to me if you feel anything again, or anything strange happens with your dreaming. But I can't sense anything abnormal now." He glanced over at the clock, and blinked as it showed to be just after three in the morning. Harry looked as well, and groaned at the time, cursing for vanished sleep time.

"Well, it's too late—or early, I should say—to go back to your dorm now. You'll have to stay here. I have a spare futon and sleep wear you can borrow, and I will wake you in the morning." With all the ease of a well practiced host, Itachi got Harry settled in. Scarcely after his head hit the pillow, the boy was deeply asleep.

The ninja watched him for a moment, before looking towards the plant he had in his hands. It had long since stopped its eerie glowing, and looked to be a normal plant at first glance. Though, with a flare of red, his sharingan could detect the energy that was assaulting the houseplant. Voldemort could tell something was wrong due to the shear simplicity of the plant on the other end of his link, but as it was still _living_, he couldn't know what it was that was different. Itachi didn't know if the link could be disconnected and then reconnected to Harry by the snake man, so he set his plant up on top of his book case—far away from his own sleeping space—so he could observe what happened with the link in the next few days. However, as Voldemort was nothing but a wizard, he doubted anything would change on its own.

Shedding his yukata, he curled up on his own futon, placed between Harry and the plant, and slipped into sleep with practiced ease.


	7. Chapter 7 : Snake or Toad

Updated 21 Jan, 2012

XXXXX

"Alright, that is enough for today. You may put away your things, but please leave your Crystals in the box next to the door." Itachi dismissed his combined class of Final Year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs (All four of them) from what they had been doing—attempting to read the physic energy buried into the ancient stones. If one could read that energy, they could have a possible vast source of untold of knowledge—anything the stone had witnessed, or something someone had placed into it, they could learn. It was a highly advance task for his advance course, but it had been in Trelawney's course notes, so he did it as well. Eventually, he would work it so that it was the only task required of his Final Years to learn in the year, rather then the scant semester it was now. He had to read a solid crystal skull, the perfect likeness of a human skull in size and shape, to pass his NEWT test for Divination. It had been the most trying of all the exams, and he had been nearly brought to his knees by the knowledge that the stone revealed.

"Mr. Pucey," Itachi called out before the other boy made it out of his class room as well, "Please wait a moment, I have something to discuss with you."

Adrian nodded and made his way over to where Itachi sat behind his desk, not even glancing to the other students in his House, and he received the same from them. Never popular to being with, it had gotten out that he started to hang around with the Weasley Twins during his free time, and had been thus been disowned by his house. It was only because Adrian's position of era Prefect that protected him from the brunt of most pranks and torments, and only just. "What is it, Professor Uchiha?" He asked as the trapdoor closed with a hollow thump.

"Mr. Harry Potter is calling a Defense meeting tonight at eight o'clock. It is on the seventh floor, across from the tapestry of that... man being clubbed by trolls." Harry had told him so that very morning.

"Barnabas the Barmy?" Adrian supplied.

He nodded, "If you see the twins and Mr. Lee today, you should tell them as well."

"Alright, thanks, Professor." He paused, however, dawdling. "Are... you going to be there tonight?"

Itachi watched him calmly, seeing how the older boy fidgeted slightly with a sleeve end—a sure sign of nerves. Itachi hadn't planned on attending as he didn't really have any reason for doing so (despite what the Headmaster wished), but Adrian probably wanted to see as many friendly faces as possible. While he had made a significant friendship with the Beaters of Gryffindor, he still was not trusted by a lot of the other members. "Yes, I will."

The Slytherin smiled brightly, "I'll see you there, then." And with a nod of parting, vanished down the trap door.

Itachi sighed, and went back to his grading.

Adrian hopped off the last step of the ladder with a bit of perk, happily making his way down to the great Hall for lunch. He hummed slightly off key, completely by himself as he walked, and loneliness for once did not eat at him. He had never made any good friends with any Slytherin, and for almost all of his schooling years, he had just stuck with the crowd and didn't try to stick out. He became a Chaser for the Quidditch team during his second year, in the hopes of gaining friends, but he still remained mostly ignored because of his lack of wealth and his "New-blood" status. Both his parents and all his grandparents were witches and wizards, but his grandparents had all been muggle born. He did view himself better then his muggle cousins (hello, _magic_), but he didn't think they should be discriminated against like most of his House-mates say. Sometimes he wished he had been put into Hufflepuff like his parents and like the Hat had thought about when he'd been sorted, but he wanted to be put into either Slytherin or Gryffindor from what his parents described to him about the school. Given that he wasn't considered for Gryffindor (a sort spot with him), he was put into Slytherin. And besides, as he had had the dream of being the Minister of Magic (or equally important political role) since he was small, and no one has ever heard of a _Hufflepuff_ minister, the snake house was for him.

"Oy!" He called out, spotting two familiar heads of hair. He waved as they turned, hurrying to catch up.

"Hey, Adrian!" George called out, grinning.

"What's up, Snake-face?" Fred joked, grinning as well. "Oh!" He said, and leaned closer, his twin doing the same on the other side. "We need to tell you something real quick."

"What is it, Lion-butt?" He asked, not at all offended to the insulting name, nor did he add any malice into his own insult. It was an on-going joke between them, a sort of nick-name rather then a real insult.

"If Filtch asks—" George said,

"—we were with you in the library until nine yesterday." Fred finished, smugly.

A sly smirk crept up on his face. "You two did it, didn't you?"

George nodded, "Worked like a charm—"

"No pun intended—"

"—just as you said it would. The jinx bounced right off of me, back to Fred, where it bounced off harmlessly again—"

"—unfortunately, the statue we were next to wasn't so lucky—"

"—don't know why Filtch was so angry—"

"—we stuck the arm back on—"

"—chewed the gum ourselves, we did—"

"—the best, newest Weasley Weeze gum, even."

Adrian laughed, just imagining it. When they had discussed plans for a new item for their shop they still needed to test one day, and he had been still a new addition to their group, he had hesitantly worked out a way they could test the item out, without one of them unnecessarily be jinxed by a higher level spell. Even Lee, who was somewhat still weary of him, thought it was a very clever plan.

"Come on, let's gets some nosh." Fred said.

"Right then," George agreed.

"Oh, wait a moment," Adrian said, remembering what he had to tell them. He glanced around for eaves droppers, and then leaned in closer conspiratorially even though no one else was around to over hear. "Professor Uchiha told me there's going to be a Defense meeting today, at eight up by the Ballet Troll painting."

Fred frowned, "But there's a Gryffindor Quidditch meeting today, Snake-face."

Adrian blinked and pulled back, his mood dropping, "But that's what he said..."

"Eh, it's probably going to be canceled today because of the weather. I'm not sure about you, but I don't want to be out side when even the _Care of Magical Creatures_ class has been relocated." George shuddered and they started making their way down the remaining distance to the Great Hall.

"It's weird how Itachi always seems to know everything about anything, huh?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he knew I was going to cheat on that quiz a week ago before _I_ even did."

"Fred, you _always_ cheat."

"That's beside the point! I was docked ten points without even the satisfaction of one right answer!"

"Well, Professor Uchiha _is_ a Seer; might have foreseen it, or something. And besides that, he's very observant. You'd be surprised at how much knowledge you can gain just by _watching_ something or someone." Adrian had first hand knowledge on that subject, having nothing to do most of his younger years besides watch on the sidelines.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand dissuasively, however, "I still think it's weird."

"Hey, what's going on over there?" Adrian asked, gesturing to where a large crowd of people had gathered near the entrance of the Great Hall.

"I dunno, let's check it out." Together they made their way over, but were approached by Lee before they got close enough. His lips were pursed, and he was glaring straight at Adrian.

"How'd you do it?" He bit out, nostrils flared.

The Slytherin blinked at the anger directed towards him. "Do what?"

"Don't bull-shit me! Tell me how you made it around the contract?"

"What are you talking about, Lee?" Fred spoke up, frowning at how angry his friend was.

"Look!" He pointed towards the poster, and they pushed and shoved as a collective to get close enough to read it. Each of their faces paled as they read

"That fat old hag!" Adrian said, the first to finish as the fastest reader.

"Oh, no you don't. You're the one who told her in the first place, so don't even _try_ to act innocent!"

Adrian turned to look at the angered Gryffindor in shocked outrage. "_Me_? Why on earth do you think _I_ told that toad?"

"So you Slytherins wouldn't get your asses kicked by us in Quidditch, or did you pass by the fact that teams are banned as well? And we all know she favors your house, you slimy snakes."

"Bollocks! What's the _point_ of winning if you didn't actually beat everyone on even ground?"

"Oh? 'Even ground' my ass! You seem to fail to remember the Final game two years ago!"

"_I_ didn't foul any god damn one of you, _not once_, the entire game, thank you very fucking much!"

"Oy, oy!" Fred and George said in unison, and physically pulled apart the two quarreling students before dragging them away from the curious crowd who was beginning to take bets. "Knock it off!"

"Lee, calm down. I've no idea how the word got out, but I'm certain Adrian didn't rat on us—"

"—Umbridge could have found out in another way—"

"—Or even guessed it—"

"—Itachi trusts him, and you know how _that_ boy-o is—"

"—and he's a good guy, you _know_ that. What other idiots do you know—"

"—besides us—"

"—who actually willingly tested out our products without being bribed to, and on a regular basis?"

"He could be trying to trick us, Fred, George!" Lee shouted, breaking free of George, "You know how those Slytherins can be!"

Adrian shrugged off his own twin, puffing up his chest in indignity. "I'm not _those_ Slytherins! I just so happen to be in that house!"

"And why else are you in there, huh? Every wizard that ever went bad was from that house!"

"Bull shit! What about that Pettigrew? He was a—gasp—_Gryffindor_! You need to get off your High and Mighty ass—"

"That will be quite enough," A cool, but firm voice broke into the heated argument just in time, as Lee looked like he was about to get physical—his hand gripping his wand tight enough that his knuckles paled till they nearly were as white as parchment. Itachi stepped easily through the crowded entrance, glaring his cold glare at the two students. "I will not allow fighting while I am around." He gave them each a glance, a stare that told them 'Move and suffer my wrath,' before turning to the still remaining crowd and began to herd them away from the scene. "All right, everyone, I know this is interesting, but go and eat your lunch before I start removing house points. You only have a little over half an hour to eat before your next class. Mr. Creevey, I have you after lunch and I will not tolerate hearing your stomach growl when we are supposed to be interpreting the solar system, so put away your camera and go back into the hall..."

However, tension was still high in the older students, and Adrian turned to flip Lee the bird while immaturely sticking out his tongue behind Itachi's back. Lee, seeing this insult, finally snapped his last restraint and lunged forward with a snarled roar, rearing back his fist for his infamous left hook.

The few lingering students gasped and one let out a surprise shriek, but it was all for naught as soon the two boys were distracted from being lifted up by their collars. Itachi—at a head shorter then both of them—had moved within a blink of an eye and effectively held them off the ground and away from each other by the front of their vests. "I said no fighting." He hissed out before rudely dropping them. Each boy flopped to the ground in shock, where they stayed even after Itachi scared away the remaining students, so they were alone in the hallway.

"Now," He said calmly, crouching down as well, "what seems to be the problem? Mr. Jordan, as the instigator, you will go first."

"The snake here told The Toad about our meetings—and now she's canceled all school activities and clubs! Even the stupid Gobstone club has been banned unless by her permission! We can't have the Defense meetings, OR Quidditch anymore because of _him_!"

Itachi had had to hold up a commanding hand to Adrian as the Slytherin made to defend himself during Lee's rant, but now he put it down and turned to the other student. "Mr. Pucey, did you in any way at all inform Professor Umbridge of the meeting?"

"Of course not! I'd never do such a thing. I'd rather _eat_ a toad then talk to The Toad."

"Did you perhaps write a note, intending to give it to someone who knew about the meetings, and then accidentally leave it somewhere she could get it?"

"No; writing notes are for girls and little kids, and I have no one to write to regardless. I can talk to people in person just fine. A-and I always made sure no one was close enough to overhear when I talked about the meeting." He insisted stubbornly, an almost pouting look to his face.

Itachi watched him for any signs of deceit, but none were present, so he turned back to the dread-locked young man. "Now, Mr. Jordan, do you have proof that Mr. Pucey was the one who somehow alerted Professor Umbridge and is now lying do me directly?"

"He's a Slyther—"

"_Real_ proof, Mr. Jordan. An eye witness? A written note? _Rumors_? Anything that could point to him, anything at all?"

Lee paused a moment, then made an exasperated noise, "Who else could it be, then?"

"Don't avoid the question."

"..." Lee broke eye contact and looked at the ground like a child caught in the act of doing something wrong. "No, I don't."

"Very well then. Mr. Pucey, will you press charges against Mr. Jordan for slanderous remarks, and instigating a fight?"

"Of course not. He's my friend." Adrian didn't turn to see the sharp, shocked look Lee gave him. Both of them knew, if he had pressed charges, Lee would have been at least in detention for two weeks, and possibly banned from the first Quidditch match of the season as Adrian was a Prefect. But it wasn't only that, but the fact he still called Lee his friend. He was either stupid or amazingly cunning and had something planned, and Lee couldn't decide which.

"Very well. I will let this incident drop, but Mr. Jordan, please come to me or another teacher first if you have any suspicions in the future, and bring proof to back up your claim. Also, I will look into the matter of the information leak personally. Now go get lunch, class is in fifteen minutes." Itachi easily stood and went into the Great Hall, leaving the young men to themselves.

They each got up and brushed themselves off, before turning to regard one another. No words passed between them as they turned and followed Itachi into the Great Hall. They were soon approached by Fred and George, and though the twins looked back and forth between them, they didn't comment at all on what had happened. "Quidditch practice has been canceled, so you were right, we do have a meeting."

"Where was it again?"

Once more, from habit, Adrian looked around for eavesdroppers, and noting a few at the nearby tables, he leaned forward to whisper for the group's ears only. His caution was not lost on any present. "At eight, at the Barnabas the Barmy painting on the seventh floor."

Fred nodded, even though he had already known the time and place, if not by the Slytherin, then by Harry himself. "Alright then, see you around, Snakey."

"Bye Leo, George, Lee." He waved as he went to his own table, sitting down at the mostly empty end. His smile dropped off his face, and he went about his meal in perfect silence, ignoring his house as much as they ignored him.

Itachi sat at the teacher's table, watching with his dark eyes. The various members of the budding group darted around to each table, telling others of the meeting. No one person told every one else, and no questionable person went to another house; very good. The ninja glanced over to where Umbridge sat, at the end of the table and a few seats over. She was glancing frequently up at the students, but the nearly smug grin on her face showed that she thought they (along with several people not in the group) were running around in distress at her newest rule, and were not spreading the announcement of the reason she made it.

He continued to watch her for a moment, seeing if she would unintentionally show her informer. But no such luck, she finished and left, without revealing anything. Itachi turned back to his own food, popped a few more mouthfuls in before he pocketed his chopsticks, and left for his next class.

**XXXXX**

Itachi was waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione when they rounded the bend at the designated seventh floor. They all grinned and greeted each other, and then Harry explained once more how to activate the room of requirements. Itachi had already been in there, and had found a room that perfectly suited him for training. He could run seemingly forever and never really get anywhere. There was weights specifically designed for ninja like him, made to weigh far more then what they appeared to. There were practice dummies, a kunai throwing area, and a mysterious dark spot that Itachi could cast any jutsu he knew at, and it would only affect the dummy placed there. In another area, littered with various dark shapes in the form of trees, rocks, bushes, and flat lands, Itachi would be attacked by an unknown force. If he 'killed' the shadowed thing, it would take five to ten minutes for another one to appear. In short, it was the perfect training ground for him to keep up his abilities, if not improve them.

But now, as he walked with the once Team Six, he concentrated on the room they would need to practice in. His main thought of the room was one that Umbridge could never find, no matter where or how much she searched.

On their third and final turn about, a wooden door appeared on the blank wall. "Harry!" Hermione called, and the other boys looked up from where they had been almost glaring at the ground.

The group approached the door, and Harry lead the way in, Itachi following up behind the group. Looking around, he noticed the room was much different then his own training. Nothing in here involved heavy physical labor, and there was an extensive display of books containing different spells and the like; Hermione was quick to pounce on them. Ron made note of the large cushions, and Harry examined the wizarding items in the corner. Itachi looked around, and noticed next to the door was a simple light with a plaque reading, "Umbridge alert" under it. He smiled slightly at his addition.

Soon more people began to arrive, as the time got closer and closer to eight. Itachi settled himself atop one of the large pillows, greeting those who greeted him. The twins, Lee, and Adrian unsurprisingly settled around him, and they joked about something or other. Itachi was thankful for their presence, if not their jokes, because they successfully hid him within their loud charisma.

Once all thirty two students had made their appearance and had claimed one of the seats, Harry started the meeting. It was _far_ less organized then the meetings of the Order, and Itachi made a metal note to teach Harry how to be a better leader when he saw him privately for their solitary lessons later.

Harry explained the room, and then the strange artifacts he had looked at earlier, before Hermione brought up the group's itinerary. The first on the chopping block was electing who was going to become their official leader.

Itachi silently raised his hand for Harry along with most of the class, and those who hadn't—who were seated near enough to see him—quickly raised their hands as well upon seeing his vote.

The next thing to discuss was a name, and a few were tossed out. It was eventually settled upon '_Dumbledore's Army_' a name which made Itachi grin for the old man, knowing he would get a kick out of it. But before the sessions started, Itachi raised his hand and lightly cleared his throat, causing everyone's eyes in the room to settle upon him.

"Er, yes, Itachi?" Harry said, blinking in confusion. Didn't Itachi say he didn't want any part in the running of the group?

He dropped his hand, and spoke clearly, "Now that we have a name for our group, it is my suggestion that we have both a group insignia, as well as an artifact that displays such. It must be something within school regulations, and preferably something only noticeable to those who are looking for it."

"Why do we need that?" Hermione asked, her brows bunching.

"Because, there are quite a few of us here and it is more then likely that there will be more in the future. It is hardly believable for everyone to remember everyone, so the insignia and artifact would provide a very neat way of telling who is a member, so news can be spread faster. Also, if one of us sees another in some sort of distress, we can come to their aid in whatever way we can. We have all joined this, and we must start taking actions to unify us. A person can easily break a single unit, but they can not break us if we stick together."

The students muttered between themselves at this, comparing it to the welcoming song the Sorting Hat gave.

"Er, ok then, are we agreed upon this?" Everyone raised their hands, and Harry glanced over them, confirming everyone's vote. "Ok. Um, Dean? You're the best at the quill that I know, so can you make something? Something nice?"

The black boy bounced up and took the quill and parchment handed to him. His tongue stuck out slightly as he began sketching. Soon enough there was a simple but elegant 'DA' printed largely on the parchment, so everyone could see from their seat. It was voted upon, and accepted as the logo. The members then discussed what to use as the identifier. Buttons and pins were out, as they'd be far too obvious. Scarves and caps were suggested, but denied because of the impractibility. Itachi was surprised when his headband was brought up, but he quickly and ruthlessly squashed the idea before it could take hold. They were not ninja, and would not have a ninja headband, no matter how unofficial. He lightly traced the hitai-ate still present on his arm, memories swimming just below the surface.

"How about my gloves, then?" Ron's voice broke through Itachi's darkening mood, and he looked up to see the boy taking off one of the gloves Itachi had given him the year before as a birthday present. "We can put the crest on the metal, and these things are surprisingly comfortable; I don't remember I'm wearing them most of the time. And, they're not really noticeable unless someone's looking for them."

"That's a great idea, Ron!" Hermione said, eyes brightening. The red-head blushed, but she didn't seem to notice. "The best thing is, is that we can say that the DA means _Damascus Armor_—that's a popular wizard clothing company, right?"

Cho frowned slightly, "Yes, it is, but..."

"That's a marvelous idea, Ronald." Itachi was quick to add, swaying the other students even more. "The gloves fit the requirements flawlessly. They don't interfere with your uniforms, they're not against school regulations, they're not hindering, and it is perfectly logical to believe that they are a new fashion statement. I do believe a similar one occurred when I was here as a student two years ago, only they were white leather gloves that glowed when clapped."

Harry nodded, tossing in his two cense, "I've always liked your gloves, Ron."

The Weasley grinned. It was voted upon, and quickly decided that the gloves would be their items. Itachi was the one who ended up conjuring all the different pairs of gloves, each with identical DA on the metal. Hermione cast another spell on the bunch, something she babbled that was a copyright spell so no one could unduly mimic the glove on their own, outside of the group. Another student, a Ravenclaw, gaped at her for it, but the slight aw disappeared in the mad rush for the teenagers to get their pair. The students all quickly found a pair that fit them, and discussed amongst themselves about how surprisingly lightweight and unrestricting they were.

"I believe we should all get into the habit of wearing these at all times. You don't know when you might need help." Itachi said, flexing on his own pair. Those who heard nodded, and from what Itachi saw of the students playing around with the gloves, coming up with 'secret' metal-tapping handshakes, he didn't think it'd be much of a problem.

"Ok, now, let us get to actual work." Harry said, and quickly the room was split up into pairs. Itachi was the spare, and he wandered away from the groups, settling down to watch. Harry went around correcting people as he went, Fred and George were paired with Adrian and Lee respectably, and Adrian and Fred were throwing more insults then spells, though the ones that were made were very good. Over all, however, Itachi was very glad for these meetings as these students were _terrible_. What was so difficult about waving a wand and saying a word?

Near the end of the meeting, Harry finally approached Cho and Itachi once again had the thought of Voldemort, eating dinner or terrorizing people or whatever he does normally, having a mind vision of the fluttering love-life Harry was currently trying to pluck up.

He snickered to himself quietly.

But, eventually the meeting was over and another one was set up for the following Wednesday. The group let out in twos and threes with Harry watching out for any teachers. Itachi (a teacher) smirked slightly as he left the room with Adrian, the boy having the most dangerous and longest rout. They were over taken by Filch at one point, but Itachi brushed the man off, saying Adrian and he had been discussing over a project for his class. The man sniffed, but it was perfectly within the rules for this to happen, so he stalked off, his cat weaving between his feet. Itachi watched him leave, glad that he had been the one the man found—it meant the others had all successfully made it back to their dormitories as they had been some of the last to leave.

Bidding a quiet goodbye to the Slytherin, Itachi silently vanished into the flickering shadows of the dungeon corridor.


	8. Chapter 8 : Of Visitors and Memories

Updated 21 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

Itachi sat up upon his chair during the Halloween feast, much like someone would a throne. The holiday was just as festive as it was when he was last here. A few of the younger students were obviously muggle born, and had decked themselves out in various costumes. Itachi couldn't help but chuckle when he saw not one, but _two_ different students dressed as "Mr. Weasel." One of them was pretty accurate, except for the fact that the tattoo was a plain swirl and had bright orange mixing with the black—possibly done to fit within the holiday better. The other had improvised a bit too much, and the only thing that gave away his costume was the actually proper—if plastic—mask tied securely in place.

The feast proved to be blissfully uneventful. Everyone ate their fill, the two Mr. Weasels preformed an unofficial mock duel in front of the entire student body with their plastic swords, and the winner received a solid chocolate katana whirled into existence by Professor Flitwick. The Fat Friar told an extremely unnerving story that terrified a good portion of the students, and everyone had a fun time. Itachi left with the masses, complimenting the winning Mr. Weasel ("That was a very good performance," "Thanks! I really lik—oy, guys! Stop eating my sword!") as he passed him by, his pockets stuffed with candies his students gave him that they had bought at Hogsmeade. Leaving the main walk ways, Itachi left the noise and bright lights behind him as he made his way to his chambers, thinking mainly on the problem of Umbridge and how she seemingly found out about the meetings. He idly took off his DA gloves as he walked, flexing his hand to adjust to the cooler temperature without them, and stuffed them into his pocket.

It was quiet save for the hissing of the flickering torches that lit the hallway, and Itachi drew out his wand to unlock his door with a small _tap_. Silently, he went into his dark room, closing and locking his door behind him. Itachi reached over and flicked on the lights, sighed softly, pushing the thoughts of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher away for the moment as he turned around to make his way to his closet to change for bed. However, he didn't make a single step before freezing, eyes locking to where someone sat, someone who wasn't supposed to be there.

"Ah, thanks for turning on the light. It was difficult to read without it," a voice said almost cheerfully in perfect Japanese. Kakashi sat up on his kitchen counter, one leg propped up with the other swinging lightly off the edge as the man's back pressed against the cupboards. His chakra was suppressed to near nothing, and Itachi had been caught completely unaware, and unguarded; something that got missing-nin like him killed.

Silence prevailed through the room, Itachi watching his friend with apprehensive eyes as his mind flooded with questions. How was he able to find him? How could he have found his trail? How did he get here? Were there others? Why did he even believe Itachi was alive at all? And, now that Itachi was discovered, what was he going to do? The mere fact that Itachi was willingly so far from Konoha for so long and alive meant he was automatically an A-ranked missing-nin, if not S-ranked for his skills. '_Attack on sight, and bring back to the Leaf—dead or alive_,' was what the unwritten law said.

A law every Konoha Shinobi followed to the letter.

The quiet was broken by the turn of a page, though it was obvious that the ninja holding the book hadn't read a single word. Kakashi spoke, his eye not leaving his book, but his tone gave away how disgusted he was in Itachi. "The others on the Memorial Stone must be rolling in their graves," while he still only used his normal, charcoal colored eye, his headband was lying perfectly straight across his forehead, his gifted Sharingan lightly shut, ready to snap into use in an instant. He raised his eye and glared over at the other ninja, "Knowing that you're walking around in yours."

"If anyone is to blame, it is you," Itachi said quickly, smoothly, his own voice devoid of emotion. He had to play this very carefully, or he would end up dead or, worse, taken prisoner.

"Oh really?" Kakashi hissed, seething at the audacity, his closed eye crushing with the force of will that it took to keep closed. "And how is it _my_ fault that you've denounced Konoha, _Uchiha_?" He gave a pointed look towards the slashed headband Itachi still wore.

The slightest shrug, "I merely followed the advice you gave me."

"My advice did **not** include telling you to abandoning your _home_!" Kakashi slammed his book down onto the counter, his entire being tensing in anger.

Both of them remembered exactly what transpired between the two, what advice they were talking about. It had been raining that spring day, when Kakashi had found Itachi, only recently released from the hospital, in the near empty A-Ranked bar where the age limit didn't apply, and the barkeep knew to keep his distance and out of the private affairs of the patrons.

"_It isn't your fault," _Kakashi had said._ "Not last time, not this time."_

_Itachi couldn't even bring himself to snort, instead choosing to knock back another mouthful of the blissfully warm sake. He winced slightly at the harsh taste, and how it burned the internal wounds, just recently healed. "For not being my fault, it is difficult to see another reason why they're gone and I'm not." He had spoken his voice grave and raspy from sorrow and lack of use. It had been the most he had spoken since the funeral, days previous; the alcohol loosening his iron clad control over his emotions as well as his tongue._

"_Itachi, you know the figures as well as I do. It was a testament to your skill that they had avoided so much suffering as long as they did. But the statistics are the way they are for a reason, and something had to catch up. It was just fate that the events were decided on the way they were." Kakashi tugged down his mask—something he only did under extremely stressed conditions—with a grimace and drank straight from the bottle, but Itachi didn't even glance at his friend's rarely exposed face. Draining the container, Kakashi replaced his mask and turned to fully look at the eldest Uchiha._

_The boy still had bandages from his own wounds sustained during the battle, around his midsection, around his head, a cast on his left leg and right arm, and two of his fingers on his left hand in a splint. He had barely managed to keep his ring finger, but the boy hardly felt the need to celebrate the surgery's success when so much sorrow ate at him. "You know I don't believe in that fate shit, Kakashi, not like that. Never like that. Ninja die by the flash of a blade, not because some god or power decided they would. It was my own ineptitude that caused them to... That allowed _him_ to..." Itachi flinched, just the barest twitch of his eye, and quickly shot down another warming, stinging, biting gulp._

"_Itachi," Kakashi leaned one elbow on the bar counter, turning to face the other ninja as he placed his hand on his undamaged shoulder, "There will _always _be someone stronger then you out there. No matter how much you train, no matter whom you defeat, no matter what your bloodline limit, there will _always_ be someone who can beat you. They may take a few years to come around, but they will, and bad things _will_ happen. You can't do anything about it but prepare yourself for the inevitable."_

_Itachi absently swirled the few remaining droplets in his cup, leaning heavily forward. His face was slack, there were dark rings under his eyes, his hair fell limply around his face, and he was sickly pale. His pitch black eyes were dull, and looked better suited to be on a doll then a living, breathing human, no matter how shallow that breathing was. "I know that, Kakashi..." Itachi said quietly, "That's the beauty of being a ninja; there will always be challenges. But that's... not..." Itachi sighed, and seemingly decompressed, slumping even further into his seat. Slowly, he refilled his cup, and sipped at the sake, more focused on his thoughts then his intake for the first time since coming into the bar._

"_I'm... scared, Kakashi." He admitted quietly, his hair casting his face into shadow. "You know how I was before I went to Hogwarts," He swallowed dryly, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "And now... I... I don't want to go back to that. They're dead, Kakashi, gone. My friends, my family, my anchors to this world... just _gone_. It's almost... it seems as if I can't _have_ a soul; that I'm not meant to; I'm not good enough for one..." Itachi swallowed a gulp of fear, trying to take control of his emotions again. However, the next words were said so brokenly, with such real emotion behind them, that they almost ripped Kakashi's heart to pieces._

"_I'm... I'm __**terrified**__ I'm going to loose it again."_

"_You won't loose your soul," Kakashi started softly, but Itachi cut him off before he could go further._

"_How would you know?" He spat out, finally turning to glare accusingly at the white haired ninja._

_Here, Kakashi couldn't help but get a little defensive in his own right, "How would _I_ know? _I_, who have lost my own team—"_

_But Itachi cut him off, not looking at all appeased, "You're not me. I'm not you. You didn't have the connections I have—_had_ with my team; your connection were nearly completely different then my own—"_

"_Different, _different?" _Kakashi half stood in his seat, alcohol shortening his temper as it flowed in his blood, "How was it different? We both _loved_ our teams, we both were children when they were lost, we both failed to protect them! How is that _different_?"_

_Itachi's eyes, for the first time, sharpened back to their ink black shade, flickering with feeling, even if that feeling was contempt, "Because you only realized their value once they were gone, and thus never formed the connections I had. You mourn more for the loss of such potential then you do for the actual bonds that existed and were cruelly ripped away."_

"_You _**dare**_—"_

"_I do not belittle your loss, my friend," He said, his voice and eyes softening, before he turned away to stare at the wooden counter, "but you cannot compare what you felt, to what I now feel. I knew full well how they felt of me, they knew full well how I felt of them; they were my family, if not in flesh and blood, and I failed them and now I am left to suffer in life knowing _exactly_ what I have lost._

"_The only reason I didn't loose my soul to the ninja life upon my return was because of them, you know. I wasn't the closest with them when I left, but when I came back they welcome me home better then my own parents would have." Kakashi, his anger deflating from him as Itachi went on, sank back into his seat, "Whenever I started to slip back to what I had been, one of them would drag me away, and each time I became closer with them. You saw us; you _know_ how familiar we were." Itachi took a shaky breath, "We were talked of like we were the newest Sannin, a Wonder team, the perfect match in capabilities and personalities. And then..."_

_Itachi gasped, the words gagging in the back of his throat, "I had finally found my home with them, and now it's gone, and I... I don't know what to do..." A tear rolled its way down his cheek, but he made no movement to wipe it away. "Please... tell me what to do... Please..." He attempted to bite back a choking sob, but only made partial success. Instead, he hunched over so far his head almost touched the counter, shoulders shaking as he fought the losing battle over his feelings._

_Silence, broken only by the impossibly distant clink of glass and murmur of voices, settled upon the two, as heavy as a tomb, as oppressing as a suicide mission. They were not disturbed in their chosen spot, being early enough in the day that only the most desperate A-ranked ninja, ones who only wished to drown their sorrows in burning alcohol, would patronize the establishment, and they coveted their own hollows of undisturbed sorrow._

"_My advice, dear friend," Kakashi began calmly, slowly, minutes—eons—later, his own black eye watching the bartender serving another ANBU on the other side of the room, "Is to not give up, and just put one foot in front of the other. That's all any of us can do—we just have to find our own ways in life __**and**__ in death, there is no singular route. I became who I am today because of what happened to my team; you need to find your own way to deal with their deaths. It may take a while, but you must over come your own implied fears about your soul—you're the only one able to affect _that; _if you _allow_ yourself loose it, you will. Just take a step, and there will be no turning back. The other steps will fall into place as needed."_

Itachi had stared down into his empty cup, seemingly oblivious to the world. But slowly, he had brought his head up, and looked deeply into the truthful, pleading eye of the one close friend he had left, though he knew he would never fill the hole in his heart from the loss of the others. "_Take a step, and there will be no turning back,_" He had breathed, in a slight daze, before rousing himself and looking back at his cup. "_Thank you, Kakashi._"

"No, it didn't." Itachi said calmly, back to the situation at hand. He prepared himself to go onto the defensive. "But it did tell me to find my own way of dealing with their deaths. You dealt with your grief by becoming the infamous Copy-cat-nin. Taking suicide mission after suicide mission and coming back _alive_ after completing them to perfection. You joined the ANBU, you became the best, you broke all physical laws that hindered you, and you struck fear into the hearts of enemies at the mere whisper of your name. You hid behind what you made, and used it as a shield, still grieving for your lost team." Itachi bit out, looking intensely at his friend—his once friend.

Ruthlessly, he continued. "But _I_ couldn't do that. I was already known, I was already feared, I was already performing feats of unknown, of unheard of abilities—with _them_. I built up my strengths, my weaknesses, my wishes, my fears, my comfort, my **home** around _them_. And then they all died, and I... I didn't. I was left all alone, without someone to turn to for guidance, for reliability—"

"_**I**_ was there—" Kakashi started, angrily.

"You cannot build a home on a broken foundation!" He snapped back, eyes flashing, "You were no better then I was! Everything and everyone I knew in Konoha was either damaged like I was in some way, or unable to help me! How can you blame me for wanting to start over, to make a _home_, with the small scrap that I had left _here_? This place..." Itachi broke eye contact, looking all around the room almost frantically, breathing deeply, "This place, this strange, extraordinary place, has before helped me to regain my soul; _how can you_ blame me for wanting it to heal me again, to give me another chance? I've lost my home, my _soul_ **twice** to Konoha, and I do not wish to again." He locked gazes once more, his red eyes swirling in challenge. "I'd rather die."

Kakashi glared from his spot, shoulders still tense as he braced himself on the counter with both arms. It went unspoken that Itachi refused to fight against him. It went unspoken that he refused to leave here without a fight. It went unspoken that there was no way possible to convince him to leave Hogwarts. It went unspoken that... if Kakashi was to make a move against him, Itachi would slit his own throat before the other ninja could do a single thing to stop him.

Kakashi slid stiffly off the counter, feet padding to the ground silently.

A kunai appeared in Itachi's hands, the metal strangely warm.

The air was tense, thick, waiting for the proverbial ax to fall. Ninja lived and died by the edge of a kunai, the flash of steel, the bite of an unforgiving blade. Both present in the room were ninja in body and soul, and it was written in the stars that they would die as such—all in a flash of a kunai.

But not this time, not these two warriors. Kakashi looked away, walking around the counter to take a seat properly. The chair scrapped against the ground loudly, and the book hissed as it was slid across the counter top. Kakashi cracked open the book to his marked place, though both of them knew he didn't see a single word. Every sound—though inhuman—sung his decision of his friend over his village. Those who broke the rules were trash, another Uchiha once said, but those who don't care about their friends are worse then trash. This had been Kakashi's first real test of his embraced moral code, and he chose his friend.

Itachi watched him for a moment, before he sighed quietly and put away his kunai. Silently moving into his kitchen, he retrieved a bottle of sake and a single cup. Without a word, he placed the alcohol in front of his once again friend, tapping it with his wand to heat it up.

Kakashi was too tense to pay attention to the fact that Itachi used the dreaded _magic_ to heat his beverage, so he just jerked down his mask with one hand as he filled the small cup with the bottle with the other. Swiftly and efficiently, he picked up the near filled to the brim glass and took in the large mouthful, swallowing it thickly before repeating, focusing on only the process and not the deserter before him.

Itachi did not watch him, but neither did he join him in the drink either. He quietly went around his kitchen, preparing a pot of green tea in the slower, traditional way. He set the pot on top of his stove, flicking it on to heat up the water. He drew a chair around to the kitchen side of the counter, sitting down on it neatly. They sat in perfect silence, not even looking at one another. Kakashi used his book as an escape, his drink long since finished and beginning to circulate and calm his body. Itachi stared at the blue tiles of his counter. Eventually, however, the tea pot whistled, and Itachi went about finishing the tea. He placed a tall, brown, traditional cup in front of the still active Konoha ninja, filling it with the steaming green liquid.

He poured himself a cup and sat down again, letting the tea pot sit on a mat to help keep from cooling. Only then, as he sipped his tea, did he break the silence. "How did you find me?"

Kakashi glanced at him over the edge of his book, eye carefully blank. "Your trail was perfectly hidden, and your 'death' perfectly believable. I actually was fooled myself until you physically walked in to this room—stupidly so during the last few hours as I sat here. However, I didn't follow _you_; I followed your weird little cat." Itachi glanced at where Kneazle-Sasuke slept on her favorite spot up on top of the refrigerator. Traitor. "Though it was old, I still did not have much trouble tracing it. It was harder to get the needed time off."

Itachi swallowed the mouthful of tea, the taste dead in his mouth, but kept his voice purposefully light, "If you believed me dead, why did you follow her?"

Kakashi gave a hollow laugh. "The only people that cat seemed to like was your brother and yourself, and she liked you more then him. And she is _damn_ smart; I thought she went back to where she came from once you had... left."

Itachi gave a small smile, remembering the incident Kakashi was indirectly referring to. Kneazle-Sasuke had made it to the hospital room when Itachi had been admitted after the disastrous mission that had killed nearly everyone on his ANBU team, before even Kakashi did, and the man had been there for the report to come in. He had burst into the room where Itachi was, and she had been lying on the pillow next to his sleeping head, carefully avoiding any life-saving tubes and wires, watching the room with bright gold eyes.

"Thank you," Itachi said softly, for what Kakashi had intended with Kneazle-Sasuke.

Kakashi flashed him his own weak smile, once again hidden behind his mask. "It was nothing, I felt it was the least I could do for Sasuke."

Silence was once again adopted between the two, as they sipped on their calming tea. Neither was quite sure how much time had passed before it was broken again, "Its amazing the things you miss once they're gone, isn't it? Like how your team always ate at one certain restaurant, which _never_ had any good food, and now you'd like nothing more then to have those half-fried eggs again?" Kakashi said, smirking slightly, though it was twisted oddly.

Itachi's lips twitched into a small smile, "Yes. I never thought I'd say I would miss Yuu's constant flirting with every creature that had breasts, and a few that didn't, Shiina's possessive jealousy, and Hiaji's pointless attempts at pacification."

"Did I ever tell you, that one time, with sensei...?" And Kakashi broke into his own tale, describing his long dead team's antics.

Upon the end of that tale, Itachi followed Kakashi's lead, telling his own joyful stories, a bittersweet smile to his face the entire time. They spoke of nothing but their dead teams, reliving each moment as the hours passed. Soon enough, however, it was well past midnight, and there were no more light-hearted stories to be told. The tea was long gone, and with it went all the tension that had sprung up between the two ex-ANBU. They were nothing more then old friends—regardless of their current positions in life—once again.

"Well, it's late, I should be going home," Kakashi said so lightly, so casually, it was if he had just come over to Itachi's house in Konoha, no more then ten blocks from his own apartment.

"Would you care to stay the night?"

"Nah, I just want to sleep in my own _bed_, not one of those futon you cling to so much."

"If you must," Same conversation, different circumstances. The only difference was that this time Itachi was making a knapsack for Kakashi, filled with traveling foods and field-precious spices. Kakashi accepted the package with a fake smile, but other wise didn't make a single reference to it.

"Well, I'll be off then, see you around," Kakashi cracked open his book again as Itachi held the door for him, waving to his friend absently as he started reading.

"Good-bye, Kakashi, my friend." The silver haired man paused, ever so slightly. The usual reply had been 'Next time, call before you come over,' but both of them knew that they would never again set eyes on each other after this, and both of them knew Itachi's feelings for the words 'Good-bye.'

The silver haired ninja turned to look one last time over his shoulder, "You _do_ realize Sasuke will never believe in your death, _or_ forgive you for abandoning him, right?"

Itachi didn't even twitch from his impassive mask, his voice carefully wiped clean of emotion as he quietly responded, "Yes, I know."

Kakashi didn't comment, instead just turned around and vanished into the dark halls, leaving one of his few friends behind forever.

Itachi shut the door.


	9. Chapter 9 : Punishments and Serenity

Updated 21 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

The sun was shining, the air was crisp, fresh, and the distant sound of a crow called out into the late morning air. The day was, in essence, beautiful. But appearances can be deceiving.

Itachi stood shock still, his breath stuck in his chest, his heart in his throat, his mind blank. The world froze and died around him, tunneling his vision until he could see not but the small, crumbled form, lying perfectly still on the ground. The earth around the figure was perfectly untouched, as if he had been purposefully laid there for Itachi to find—or that... that he hadn't put up much of a struggle.

Swallowing hard, Itachi took a single step forward, not even able to form the necessary questions. How could this have happened? Where did Itachi go wrong, to have allowed this? Where is the murderous dog responsible?

His single step stumbled and jerked into two, then three, and then he was running over, tripping every other step. Normally, things scattered across the ground—rocks, twigs, exposed roots—meant little to nothing to the elite ninja, but now they did all they could to stop him, to stop him reaching the horribly familiar, yet sickenly different body.

He finally tripped completely, falling heavily to the ground but five steps away. Not even slowing down, he crawled the remaining distance, but halted inches from the bloody form. The ninja felt strangely numb—he couldn't hear his breath heaving in his chest, or feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. The area had been drained of all sound, the colors had dimmed, and even the spring Konoha sun had lost its warmth.

The body was in a dismal state, and even in Itachi's denial, he couldn't say that the figure could still be alive in its current condition. At least three limbs were quite obviously broken, the bone poking out of one, through the once pale flesh in a scrawny arm. Lacerations decorated the body, the smallest being a finger length gouge on the bloodless cheek. The eyes remained closed to the world, and would have given the illusion of slumber, had they not been already somewhat sunken and misshapen, and had blood crusted on. Itachi couldn't bring himself to check under the frail lids, but logically the eyes had been sliced open, probably methodically. Already, he was having a hard time coming to terms with the large, gaping hole in the side of the small chest, leaving sickly yellow bones exposed to the air.

Completely unaware that his eyes had tears streaming down, that his throat choked with panting sobs, or of the three pairs of eyes boring into his back, Itachi ghosted his hands over the form, not quite able to actually touch the boy yet. It could be a genjutsu, a very good one. Oh, _please,_ be a genjutsu...

Fingers danced over the blood matted black hair, the once blue shirt stained a muddy brown, flickering around with no sense or rhythm. Something close to a keeling wail—not at all human—sounded through the emptiness momentarily as he finally brushed the filthy locks from the tiny face, confirming that indeed, this figure was real.

Itachi couldn't feel it as he picked up his brother, cradling the broken form to his armored chest. He was unaware of his rocking, or how he tilted his head back and let out a silent roar to the heavens and fate as his mind finally came with a solid thought.

Sasuke was dead.

**XXXXX**

Itachi was not someone who would wake up screaming after a nightmare. He was not one who would jerk awake, gasping for breath, or even spasm silently in his bed. Whenever he had a terrifying dream, one that honestly got to him, he would awaken paralyzed. He wouldn't be able to move, to think, or to breathe. The only thing that showed he was indeed awake was that his eyes would open, and they would stare at the pillow he was resting his head on.

Eventually, however, his paralysis would recede, and he'd be able to function again. Normally, he'd just roll over with a huff of annoyance and go back to sleep, banishing the horrid images from his mind. He was Elite, such things did not, _could_ not bother him. This time, however, the ninja took a shuddering breath, and started to tremble on his bed.

"It wasn't like that," he murmured to himself, convincing himself, "Sasuke didn't... he wasn't... _It wasn't like that!_" He curled up even tighter, biting back the sob in his throat.

Suddenly, he sprung from his futon, into the cool, almost cold air of his room. He grabbed the training clothes carefully laid on the floor next to his bed, and began to don them meticulously, almost tediously. With each article slipped on, his body began to calm, until finally, as he idly tightened the strap on his arm brace, he was the picture of perfect serenity. It was too early to be up yet, just an hour or two from when he slipped into practiced slumber, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep after the night horrors. At least when he physically exerted himself, he was able to calmly assess the thoughts that plagued him. He could, he supposed as he started to jog to his 'training room' in the Room of Requirements, zone to keep the thoughts at bay, but if he did that, it might lead to an unintentional Sight, not to mention that zoning did not allow him to work through the plaguing thoughts.

And so he worked his body as he worked his mind. But, no matter how hard he trained, no matter how early he started, he was almost late to the Quidditch match that day, and the terrible image still ate at him, even though the truth fought against the dream.

"Sasuke is not dead," he muttered to himself as he worked, "Sasuke is not dead."

And so, much later, Itachi huddled into his robe and scarf of familiar gold and red, trying not to let his thoughts stray. He doubted he would ever get use to the cold of Hogwarts. He missed his Fire Country, with its mild winters, and long summer days (though it was often humid enough to kill swamp rats). When ever he could help it, he had always avoided the missions set in the snow, or in the mountains when he went about selecting the missions for his team; though that was probably the reason why... Itachi jerked his eyes down to where the Quidditch team was coming out of the lockers, shaking off the thought. Seeing Kakashi last night brought up new thoughts, new regrets, and the nightmare hadn't helped much... But Itachi had made his decision, and he couldn't change it now, because of Hogwarts, because of his life, and because of Sasuke. Especially because of Sasuke.

The whistle was blown, and the players kicked off, thankfully drawing his attention to a much needed distraction. Itachi was nothing more then a speck of gold and red, briefly readopted for the occasion, among the mass of green and silver. He had chosen his spot very well, for not only was he as close as he could get to the Gryffindor's three hoops, but he could counter act any and all of the Slytherin jeers when the still slightly skittish Ron made his debuted. And, as a bonus, he acted as a natural deterrent to a few of the more mean students. Being a teacher definitely had its bonuses, and being able to sit where he wanted was one of them.

"_Weasley cannot save a thing,  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That's why Slytherins all sing:  
Weasley is our king._"

Itachi grimaced at the song, nearly shouted directly into his ear. He, however, did not turn from Ron, and shot the other boy the best glare he could manage when Ron turned to look at the Slytherins. Blue eyes caught on pitch black, and suddenly Ron's face set in a grim line, and he snapped his head around to where the Quaffle was being passed between the green chasers. As it came up, he expertly kicked away the red ball from the hoops, forcing it to drop down into the awaiting hands of Alicia. The Slytherins abruptly stopped their chanting as Gryffindor erupted into cheers.

And so the game went. The Slytherins tried three more times to unnerve the new keeper, but every time Itachi gave a pointed look to Ron and the boy was able to disregard the spiteful students. Eventually, the Slytherins gave up chanting the song, and just hurled insults like they normally did. Itachi smirked at Ron at this, sharing mutual amusement, before he finally allowed himself to look at the other players. Adrian had just caught the ball, and purposefully zipped directly passed the two Gryffindor Beaters, grinning good naturally at them as Lee commented on his daring, "_Adrian Pucey with the Quaffle! Smart when it comes to school, but obviously lacking some brain cells as he openly challenges the Weasley Twins! I don't know about you, but I'd rather like to never meet the end of their Bludgers..._"

As if to prove the statement true, the Slytherin narrowly missed a flying black ball, and had to toss the Quaffle to a sneering teammate before it was lost. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your view), Alicia once again took possession of it as it traveled through the air. Adrian earned a punch on the arm when madam Hooch wasn't looking from his burly team captain, but both Fred and George saw, and sent a perfect Bludger towards the Slytherin in retaliation; nearly knocked the teenager off his broom as it hit him square in the face.

The game ended when Harry caught the Snitch shortly after Adrian had scored (he being the only one who was able) for the fifth time, but Gryffindor still won by a large amount, and not only because of the Snitch. The two teams landed to go back into the locker rooms, and Itachi smiled at how the twins and Adrian were joking good-naturedly towards Ron, but the smile dropped instantly as he spotted trouble—an angry looking Malfoy who was quickly approaching the group.

"—we couldn't fit in _useless loser_—" The impossible blond sneered, stupidly disregarding the obviously angry three Weasley brothers who were being physically restrained from attacking him. Of course, maybe he wasn't so stupid, as his attack came from behind.

"Mr. Malfoy," Itachi hissed as he grabbed the boy's collar and jerked him around so they were face to face. "Detention. For one week. I believe I've warned you against this before, and the ONLY reason I've not taken _fifty_ House Points from you is because apparently, not all Slytherins are little pricks if one is to take into fact of Mr. Pucey's actions in this current situation."

The entire clearing had gone silent, watching the display. Itachi was not openly angry—he never seemed to break his emotionless state—but he still somehow radiated sheer irritation though his face and voice gave away nothing.

"M-Mr. Uchiha!" Came a high voice, and Itachi could only feel his anger rise as he turned to look at the woman waddling angrily and purposefully towards him.

_"Professor_ Uchiha; I am a teacher and _will_ be referred to as such." He didn't let go of Malfoy, and the boy didn't dare move, too paralyzed at the fact he had finally pushed the wrong person too far.

"We do not handle students like that!" She disregarded his deadly demand, too anxious at finally catching him doing something against the rules then to pay attention to the dangerous ground she was treading on. Her eyes bulged grotesquely, and her hand gripped her wand tightly as she shuffled over to them on her short stumps of legs.

His eyes narrowed slightly. He was not in the mood to deal with her shit. Not today, not when he had been reminded so vividly and abruptly of his failures and past, irrevocable choices. "You seem to do it just fine against Mr. Lee Jordan, Ms. Hannah Abbott and Mr. Harry Potter." He spat, the accusing echoing through the silence of the field.

Her eyes popped out even more and her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out, though he expected her to start croaking any moment. "I—I've never—How did you—" She stuttered.

"All students are in my class, and it was not difficult to place their mysteriously appearing wounds when the only deviation was your detentions. Need I remind you, _Ms._ Umbridge, that it's not only against the rules of Hogwarts to physically reprimand students, _especially_ involving loose dark creatures, but against the Ministry's code as well?"

Her mouth worked a moment or two, before she shut it with a snap, and forced a sickly smile on her face, silently promising vengeance. Without another word, she turned on her heels and left the field.

"You will come to my room in the topmost North tower every day for one week at seven sharp and ending at curfew, starting Monday after dinner. If you fail to come, I _will_ come and collect you, and another week will be added to your preexisting time. _Don't_ be late." Itachi didn't even turn his head back to the fifteen year old, watching the hated Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Itachi abruptly let go of the Quidditch robes, and strode darkly towards the castle without so much as a glance back to the field. The entire student body—though a lot of them had no idea what happened explicably—gave him a wide birth.

Itachi went directly into his class room, to his desk hidden behind the flat wall, and embraced the welcoming, nearly suffocating darkness of his office, hiding from himself.

**XXXXX**

Itachi looked up from where he sat, towards where the knocking sounded. Ah, he was early. Smoothly, he left his table and made his way over, unlocking and opening the wooden door to see the Slytherin peering at him, slightly nervous.

Itachi smiled a practice smile, "I was not expecting you for a while yet."

The Prefect avoided his gaze, blushing ever so slightly. "S-sorry, Professor. But my house has been... upset since the match, and I just wanted to let it cool down... I hope I'm not too early?"

"No, no, Adrian," Itachi said, letting the Chaser in to his room, closing it again while the young man slipped off his shoes, "I was just finishing the snacks. Here, if you follow me, we can get you dressed for the occasion. And please, call me Itachi while in a personal setting like this."

They made their way over to the opposite corner of the room, where a shoji screen wall stood so it enclosed off a section. Itachi retrieved the necessary items from a wooden trunk while Adrian stripped next to him. As it was the male kimono, it was far simpler then the female version, Itachi only had to direct the other boy, rather then physically dressing him.

Eventually, the Slytherin was clad in cool colors, not a scrap of green left. A light blue kimono with a dark brown obi, partially covered by black hakama, made up the bulk of the outfit, and made the teenager's tall form very trim. A rich brown haori jacket was fit over the top, tied closed by royal blue jime strings to a constant state of partial openness. Adrian, for his own thoughts, loved the silk material, and it did wonders to fight off the cold, but he still felt weird wearing a dress. But as long as he wasn't the only one, it was fine, he thought as he eyed the Asian's own outfit.

Itachi was wearing a simple black kimono with a silver obi, and had chosen light brown hakama. His own haori was a midnight blue, tied closed with pure white jime strings.

"Now that you're dressed, we shall await the other party. Please sit with me, so I can explain to you what you need to do during the ceremony."

"Can I help make... whatever you're making, Prof—Itachi?"

"No, you need to learn what is expected of you, not how to make rice rolls. Besides, I am the host, you are the guest. Guests do not help the hosts prepare."

And so they settled down at the table, discussing what was going to happen during the Snow Watching ceremony. Eventually, someone knocked at the door again, and Itachi went to answer it, leaving Adrian to finish the last two balls. He wasn't exactly sure how the Slytherin managed to wheedle into helping, but he let it pass as it didn't really matter at the moment.

"Sorry, I'm not late am I?" Hermione panted, her face flush from more then just the cold hall way. She slipped inside the room and struggled to take off her shoes, hat, scarf, and jacket all at once. "I was in the library and lost track of time and I _do_ hope I'm not late." Her hair was different then its normal bush, mostly trapped in a chaotic braid pinned to the back of her head with a pair of laminated sticks. Why she stuck eating utensils in her hair was beyond him, but logically she was probably trying to mimic the Japanese kanzashi hairpins. He smiled and didn't comment towards them.

"No, Hermione, you're not. Adrian and I were just finishing with the meal we will be eating." Itachi closed and locked the door behind her, as there were no more welcome visitors this night. "Do you know how to put on a kimono?"

"Um," She paused, slipping off her last shoe, "Yeah, I do. Never put one on myself, but I'd helped someone else loads of times. We have this Asian lady from Japan who lives next door to us back at home. I was caught in her kitchen once when I was eight (my magic showed it self through random Apparations) and was made into her errand girl for punishment until I came here. I'm pretty sure I can do it by myself."

Itachi nodded, settling down in his seat again, "The _kimono_ is in the trunk, behind the screen where you can change. I will keep Adrian over here."

"Hey!" The eldest in the room said, until then quietly attending to his self-enforced task, broke into the topic, his face flushed with both anger and embarrassment, "Are you implying that I'd peak on a girl changing?"

He was, however, successfully disregarded, "As soon as you're done, we can begin."

"Alright, I'll be right out, then."

When she disappeared behind the screen, Itachi pointedly took over the food prep task again. Adrian pouted slightly and went to wash his hands in the sink.

Hermione's voice drifted over the changing screen, "So, Itachi, why didn't you invite Ron and Harry?"

He chuckled, "Do you honestly think they'd appreciate such a thing as a tea ceremony? Not only would they be bored, but they'd ruin it for the rest of us with their complaining. The First Snow ceremony is supposed to be as the snow itself—tranquil, surreal, and above all, _quiet._ We are supposed to be doing something that clears us of all tensions, and mimic the serenity of the snowfall."

"Oh." The room was silent again for a few moments, save for the rustling of Hermione getting dressed, Itachi finishing the balls by sprinkling them with small sesame seeds, and Adrian readying the seating area. How the boy was able to snag this task, as well as knowing it needed to be done to begin with (and how it needed to be done, even) mystified the ninja. But his attentions were soon called away from trying to distract his guest into sitting and waiting like a guest should. "Well, why didn't you invite Professor McGonagall, or someone? I'm sure she'd appreciate it very much. She's even your colleague."

"Because, while she may be my colleague, she is not my peer. I prefer to be around people in my own stance in life, not my grandparent's."

"Bwahahaha!" Adrian, clutching one of the seating pillows, paused in his commandeered task to laugh at that, "Oh, man, Itachi! If Professor McGonagall ever hears that, teacher or not, she'd _lynch_ you!"

He grinned as well, cheered by Adrian's cheer. "What happens in my room, _stays_ in my room, thank Merlin."

"Agreed, agreed!" He cackled some more, tears at his eyes.

"Oh, stop it, you two! She's not _that_ old," Hermione scolded them as she came from behind the screen. Her outfit was mostly covered by her pure white haori, folded over her arms before her.

"Why are you not wearing the _haori,_ Hermione? It is going to be cold outside." Itachi was not at all surprised to see her dressed so quickly—normally it took a good hour to dress in a full kimono with no help—as he had felt the stirrings of magic behind the screen.

"Because I wasn't sure if I got the knot correct." She slung the white mass over a chair and spread her arms, spinning to show the full outfit.

It truly was a piece of art work, even by kimono standards. The long sleeves brushed her shins, flowing without a whisper of a sound. Up the right sleeve stood a proud trunk of a plum tree, light brown but riddled with dark brown age lines and knots of intricate, almost realistic design. The bare branches crawled across the top of the garment, bony fingers reaching into the royal blue sky. Snow fell from an unseen source, some settling in patches on the tree almost in substitution of leaves. The rest flowed with lazy ease down to the ground, covering it with the purest white blanket, marred only by the footprints of a snow fox, seen hiding under an exposed, gnarled root and looking out with bright orange eyes. The obi followed the design of Foxes, and the light brown, yellow eyed creatures danced across the black fabric in play, leaving white footprints in their wake. An orange jime belt struck across the obi, and the barest amount of yellow from the cloth obi-age peaked from the top, teasingly.

Hermione was not at all the embodiment of typical Japanese beauty—her skin was too dark and of the wrong shade, her hair too uncontrolled and of the wrong color, her face was too pointed, her eyes far too large and lacking the normal slant—but she still appeared the exotic beauty from a far away country reaped in old traditions, brought here by the will of men... by the will of _Itachi._

"How do I look?"

"You look beautiful," Itachi said, too softly, too naturally for his own likings. Thankfully, he was saved from having himself cornered from his remark (as Hermione looked to him _too_ happily for his common sense) when Adrian, once again forgotten, spoke up from his spot.

"You look like a doll," He breathed, eyes riveted to her. Of course, his shock was broken as two sets of eyes snapped to him—one almost grateful, the other annoyed and slightly insulted—and he immediately dropped his gaze, his face glowing beat red from embarrassment. He still had the seating pillow, only now he clutched at it as if it would shield him from the recuperations of his words. "Er, I mean, uh... N-not like a, like a _toy,_ b-but, erm, like a figurine! NO! I-I didn't mean that! I mean, ah, what I mean is... I'll go over here and die now." Abruptly he turned and went outside, leaving the two alone in the room. And while Hermione obviously wanted to go back to the train of thought before his comment as she turned to the Asian with an almost hopeful smile, Itachi just gave her an amused grin at the Slytherins antics.

"Well, let us begin, shall we?" He breezed out the door, leaving her to curse her dratted luck. Too close, he told himself.

He settled at his prearranged seat, facing his two guests with the door to his left and his garden to his right. As soon as Hermione settled onto her seat, the white haori snugly over her shoulders, he began the ritual.

It was a completely silent affair. First Snow tea ceremonies had been pointless in Konoha, where they never got frost on the ground even in the worst of winters, but it was a Hyuuga tradition from long, long ago—before the Sharingan came into existence, or even the Byakugan itself. The Uchiha, being proud of their fire centric clan, dropped the ceremony within the first generation. Itachi had been taught by Hawk, as the Hyuuga still had every ritual it had since its forming. Hiaji, especially, loved tea ceremonies, and knew over a hundred verities by heart. Itachi was the only one from the team to really take to the ceremonies. Wasn't it a tea ceremony that he went to with Hiaji just before—he cut off the thought, swallowing heavily. Thankfully, no one noticed his momentary laps.

He started by heating the water until it was boiling hot and pouring it into the awaiting bowl, mixing the tea much like in a regular ceremony before pouring the thin tea into the three awaiting cups. Then, after testing it with much practiced grimaces, took the wooden ladle and held it out into the falling snow. Perfectly still, as if becoming a tree much like the one in the corner, he waited until the ladle was full, then carefully deviated out a portion into each cup. This he handed out, and everyone drank their cups in between bites of a rice dumpling.

Once the tea was consumed, Itachi directed them to three pillow seats a bit away, at the other end of the porch. They settled down there and watched the snow fall from the sky. Lazily, silently, beautifully. As this ceremony was set just after the nightly feast, and they had been advised not to eat dinner, there was a plate of bite sized morsels of food, gathering falling snow on their pyramid-like mounds almost as if a garnish. Each of them picked up their designated chopsticks, and slowly devoured the snow-covered food.

No one was quite sure when they went back inside, the ceremony completed. But suddenly Adrian was back in his normal clothes and chattering animatedly, going on about how alike and unalike it was to the one he participated in with his Aunt-in-law, who was a Japanese Geisha before she married his non-magical soldier Uncle. Upon earlier discussion, it was discovered that it was the same lady the Gryffindor girl lived next to. Hermione herself was currently using the screen to change out of her own kimono, and was keeping out of the current conversation.

"I'm glad you appreciated it, Adrian, perhaps we shall do it again sometime."

"Sure! I'd love to. It was almost _magical,_ you know? The way everything seemed."

Itachi smiled calmly, "I assure you, it wasn't." He would never admit it, even to himself, but the affects of the tea ceremony did have a magical effect—a magic so old it was unable to be called such. It realigned the participant's being back into the way of the earth, specifically, into the way of the snow: calm, serene, and coldly distant. No longer was Itachi desperately clinging, in his own way, to his half baked choices, his measly connections to his friends of this Hogwarts life. Now, while not happy, he was content with his lot in life, with the way his decisions have laid out. That was then, this is now, and he would live with it. "But thank you for the compliment, and have a good night."

Adrian waved as he trotted down the hall, glad that he had the privilege of being a Prefect with an extended curfew.

Itachi closed the door, and turned back into his room, idly clearing the tea set so he could wash it later. He was just turning to go and collect the pillow seats, when Hermione, dressed as normal, came from behind the screen. "Itachi," She said, almost shy, "I have a question..."

He looked calmly at her, and walked over, stopping a few feet away. His instincts were tingling, slightly, so he maintained a reasonable distance from her, "Yes, Hermione?"

"Do you... do you like me?"

Itachi's eyes shot open in shock. He never would have expected her to just come out and ask, and he was momentarily stunned by the question. Hermione took the chance unintentionally offered, and started to blab, eyes firmly staring over his left shoulder.

"I-I've been noticing you've been acting different—in a good way, I mean—around me, and I want you to know that I like—I'm open to the idea of... us... a-and I understand, if—if you're not, that it's my _silly_ imagination getting a hold of me, but I think you feel the same way as I do—n-not that I'm particularly crushing—or anything—but... yeah." Her entire face was flushed red from embarrassment, and she fidgeted with her hands, twisting and wringing them together, her eyes still firmly avoiding his own.

She expected a whole verity of reactions from the ever quiet ninja, but not the one she received. Two warm hands came to cup her face, and she looked up to see him smiling softly down at her, close enough so she could see the faint difference between his pupils and his irises. He leaned forward, and her eyes slid shut expectantly... only to feel his lips place a quick kiss on her brow.

_"_Hermione-_chan,"_ he said as he pulled away, leaving her saddened and let down. "I will admit there is attraction on my end, and that I have been acting around you differently. However, it cannot be. We are mere teenagers, unwise to the world around us, discovering that there is more to the other sex then separate bathrooms." He broke gazes with her, looking instead at his hand which tucked a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I have a much too bloodied path to ever have a relationship like the one you deserve. There are plenty of more fish in the sea, as the saying goes, and they will be far more accepting to your affection—and able to reciprocate it. Besides," He chuckled a little, almost sadly, "I am still a Professor, and you are still a student. A relationship between us is forbidden."

"I understand," She said in a small voice, trying to hide her disappointment. "I guess, I guess you're right. My educations more important to me then a silly boy right now." She gave him a fake smile, eyes closed to cover up their glassy look.

Itachi smiled back with his own false grin, but pressed on regardless. "Good. Now, you should be getting back to your dormitory. There is classes tomorrow, and I know you dislike being late to them, so you must get to bed soon as to not over sleep."

He escorted her to the exit, bid her a good night, and closed the door before either of them could change their minds about the ordeal. He breathed a deep, slow sigh, still facing the door. It is for the best, he told himself, convinced himself. He could not form such a connection, was not even _able_ to; ANBU were well advised to not even form friendships due to the fact of them being used against them—Itachi found out the hard way, and had since vowed to never let it happen again, in any form. He turned and made his way into his still, quiet, solitary room, ignoring how his hollowness echoed especially noticeably.

It is for the best.


	10. Chapter 10 : Of Meetings and Returns

Updated 28 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

Malfoy hesitantly poked his head through the trap door. He had never been in here before—having chosen Arithmancy rather then Divinations—and though he had left dinner a good hour early, he just managed to appear a few minutes before the designated time.

Now, Draco wasn't one who made a habit of being early (what was he, a geek like Granger?), but... He had never been so..._ scared_ of a person before. Not even Moody, the ol' Auror chump, when he had turned Malfoy into a white ferret (oh, the humiliation) had brought on such _fear_. While Moody was old, world-wise power and skill; Uchiha Itachi, the mysterious Japanese once exchange student now Divination Professor, was just... power—cold, calculating power. If one was to place him next to the Dark Lord himself, Malfoy would have a hard time choosing the stronger of the two.

And the other day, the entirety of his anger (what had made him so angry, anyway?) was focused on him. Cold, heart clenching fear shot through him when he looked into those smoldering soulless black eyes; it was as if he just realized he had been dancing in a pit full of angry, hungry dragons, and he was the only morsel in sight. And the worse thing was, was that Uchiha didn't even have to change his tone, or raise his voice, or even shift his expression from that ever calm façade to insight such fear—it was all about his _aura_. And that fact alone made Draco tremble.

The room was dark, and seemingly deserted. But Malfoy did not dare to leave the room and risk further punishment; Uchiha told him to appear, and Professor Snape had not been able to get him out of the detention. Draco shivered, as he clearly remembered the Slytherin Head's warning, early on in the year when Malfoy had notified him of Uchiha's point reduction at the Gryffindor practice. "_Do not underestimate Professor Uchiha, it may be the last thing you do,_" He had laughed then, but the chuckle quickly died in his throat when he realized Professor Snape was being perfectly serious. And now he believed it with all his heart.

"Well? Come in," A perfectly calm voice sounded through the darkness of the room. A light flared into existence as a match was struck, and a candle was lit. Itachi Uchiha emerged from the shadows as the light drew away the darkness, as silent as a ghost. He was immaculate as ever, wearing simple black clothes under his teacher's robe. His long hair was set just right to frame his face and look perfect, like always. His face betrayed no emotion, and thankfully he seemed to be just as calm as well. Still, it was eerie how he just seemed to appear out of thin air like that in the middle of the classroom.

Draco straightened his spine, and schooled his face, determined not to let Uchiha unnerve him again. He was a Malfoy, after all, and they had an image to maintain. He weaved his way over, avoiding the chairs and the tables, careful not to trip and look undignified. Once he made his way over, the teacher turned and began to lead him back towards the only flat wall in the room, to where it joined the other wall opposite the fireplace. Through the rich, deep red curtain they appeared in what seemed to be Uchiha's office, and from what Draco knew of the past Divination teacher, her use-to-be bedroom as well. However, as there was not a bed in sight—merely a very low desk, this one holding a far heavier collective of teachery things then the one outside and had an odd pillows in place of chairs—so that meant the foreigner had a room elsewhere, rather then living up here like some type of obsessive hermit. Tactful.

Looking around, Draco noticed with slight disappointment the fine way everything was styled. It was a type of style he had always associated with money—_old_ money. And given the fact that his innate "Mudblood" senses never, _ever_ rang around Uchiha which meant he had to be a Pureblood, so that meant Draco had no natural advantage over the other fifteen year old. Damn.

"Since the reason you have this detention is because of your pathetic character," Uchiha said calmly as he set the candle on the desk. Malfoy seethed at the offhanded insult but held his tongue, lest he was punished further. "We will be reviewing and working on that rather then some menial task. So, please sit and look into the flame, concentrating on your most predominate childhood memories."

Draco blinked when he realized Uchiha wasn't going to say anything else. "That's it?" He asked, shocked, a moment or two later.

Coal eyes met gray ones. "Yes."

Rightfully stunned that he would be staring at a _candle_ for hours, he openly gaped at the teacher for a few seconds, his fear and nerves completely forgotten. Then he snorted in disgust and sat heavily on the surprisingly comfortable pillow, glaring at the small flame. He, of course, first only thought of the pointedly detailed letter he'd be sending to his parents, of how cruel and heartless Uchiha was and how he should be fired. But after he'd mentally composed the entirety of the letter a half hour later, he figured he'd be able to kill the time faster if he actually did what the Divination teacher told him (and so, if asked, he would be able to give some pre-screened stories without being put on the spot). He thought back, past Hogwarts, past the private tutors, to his earliest memories.

"Draco."

Malfoy instinctively glanced up, not really sure if he heard his name almost whispered into the darkness, and met swirling red eyes for the barest of moments before his world went black.

Itachi watched as the other boy fell backwards onto the pillow with a small groan and thump. His eyes flinched ever so slightly as he dropped his sharingan, and brought up a hand to rub at his temples. Once again he was reminded to not mix magic and charka, he thought sourly.

What he just did with Malfoy was combining his Mangekyou with what he had discovered about Legilimency. Like his normal ability, he drew the victim (for lack of a better word) in to his own world for seemingly as long as three days, and they were completely at the mercy of his will. Like the true wizard version of mind reading, he was able to sift through the thoughts and memories of his victims. Unlike his normal ability, however, it was much more painful for him, though it didn't drain him of as much energy. Unlike true Legilimency, he couldn't really "search" a mind, he had to be guided towards the thoughts or memories he desired to see by the victim themselves. He was completely incapable of "true" Legilimency, of looking into someone's mind without his precious bloodline activated, as verified by Professor Snape, but he wasn't so much bothered by it. He was an Uchiha, not a Yamanaka. He assumed it had something to do with his Seer abilities, as he was a natural Occulmancist as well. There were so few True Seers in the world for a reason, and if any Legilimencist could just take a peak into the mind of one, it would surely cause havoc to the Fates.

Blinking away the throbbing ache, and ignoring it with all the ANBU skills he possessed, Itachi got up from his own cushion and went around to the sprawled, unconscious body. He adjusted the other boy so that it seemed like he had fallen asleep on the table, adjusted so as to both appear natural and cause no unnecessary pains from an odd positioning. He may find Malfoy to be a git, but that didn't mean he'd be unnecessarily cruel or masochistic. And he was working to solve the git part, as well.

With nothing else to do, and having to wait until Malfoy awoke from his mind breach, Itachi sat down and started to grade the seemingly endless essays.

Sometimes, being a teacher just didn't pay.

**XXXXX**

Itachi glanced up from his desk, out to the window towards the black, star filled sky, judging it to be around midnight. Maybe just before. He switched his gaze to look down, instead of up, and saw that the light was on in Hagrid's hut, just visible from his vantage point. Ah, he's home early. He knew of the half-giant's mission over the summer, and was curious as to how it went. Malfoy had long since left, stumbling to his dorm in a confused daze, wondering when he fell asleep and why his memories were so vivid.

The missing-nin stood and stretched, working out the stiffness in his muscles from hunching over too many badly written homework pieces. He glanced over at his privet table, and didn't bother to clean up as he would his classroom desk. He'd just come back in the morning, and between classes to finish, and re-setting up his ink, papers, and organizing techniques was too much of a time waster.

So, with that thought in mind, Itachi silently made his way out of the castle, not disturbing even a passing shadow—and being wary of every one as well. Kakashi _should not_ have been able to catch him unguarded, and Itachi vowed to never be caught unaware again, even if there wasn't another true ninja in this world.

Like a wrath, he made not a single whisper as he crossed the ground, and noted that a group—three—people, packed closely together, had made their way across the slightly damp ground before him, towards the small hut as well. And they've yet to come back this way. So, it was no surprise to him, when Hagrid opened the door to his knocking, to see his little genin team sitting around the abnormally large table.

"Ah, Itachi! What're yeh doin' here?" Hagrid asked more then greeted, once over his shock. Apparently he did not know Itachi had moved here. Interesting.

"Good evening, Hagrid." He dipped his head in greeting. "From my room, I noticed your light, so I came here to up-date you on all that has transpired, after all, The Phoenix Rises From Need."

Hagrid frowned heavily down at him, not necessarily surprised, his beetle black eyes (well, _eye_, as the other was puffed over) glinting, registering the saying. Without another word, he moved to the side so Itachi could come in.

"Hey, Itachi! What're you doing here?" Ron grinned and waved, still apparently on his high from performing so well during the game.

"I should be asking you three the same. I am not the one with a curfew." He stated calmly, sitting down at the table as they all scowled at him. "But I will not make you leave, as I know you all have missed Hagrid as well as I." He greeted each of them in turn, and pretended not to notice how Hermione avoided his eyes, and how her smile seemed a bit forced. It had been a few days since the tea ceremony, but she was still affected by it. Hagrid didn't have another bucket sized mug, but Itachi just changed a spare fork into a (normal sized) porcelain teacup, and gladly accepted some of the hot beverage.

"Alrigh', Itachi, why don'cha tell _me_ what're yeh doin' here, at Hogwarts?" Hagrid sat down heavily, and slapped what looked like a giant sized piece of rotting meat over his mashed up face with obvious relish.

"Over the summer I came to Hogwarts in search of work. I am now the Divination teacher."

The large man frowned, doubtful, "Sybill retired?"

"Yes." And left it at that. Itachi didn't need to look at the students to know that they now realized just how private he regarded his reasons for coming to Hogwarts to be, and for which he was glad.

Still frowning, Hagrid let the subject drop. Itachi could tell he would be questioned later, but as of now, the matter was disregarded.

"Anyway, we were just asking Hagrid what happened." Harry supplied.

"Fer the las' time, it's nuthin'!" The giant man growled, the festering steak sliding somewhat down his face.

"I still say you should go see Madam Pomfrey." Hermione piped up from her spot.

"This's good fer meh," He gruffed out, gesturing towards the meat.

"That can't be sanitary." Itachi frowned slightly, eyeing the huge, greenish slab about the length of his arm.

"Its dragon meat," He said, "It'll keep fer years like it is. Pow'f'l stuff it is, perfect fer me face'n such."

"So you're not going to tell us what happened, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Can't, Harry. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."

"Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?" Hermione asked quietly. Itachi glanced at her, out of the corner of his eye. She was too clever for her own good, sometimes.

Hagrid, of course, was shocked by the question. The meat slid sickenly down his face, leaving green, bloody trails in its wake. As he stuttered protests, he caught gazes with the ninja, and Itachi shook his head ever so slightly. 'No, I did not tell them.' He said silently.

"We figured it out," Hermione was quick to put in, noticing the silent exchange.

"Yeah, it was kind of... obvious." Ron added.

Itachi remained silent as the discussion went over Hagrid's experience with the Giants. He filed away the important knowledge, and saved his questions for later, after the non-Order team six left. He was only vaguely interested in what happened to Hagrid at first, as Giants weren't his favorite creatures, but he was listening just as intently at the news of the Death Eater as the others.

"Harry," Itachi said as he suddenly stood, gathering all their attentions, "take out your cloak and hide with the others in the corner." He went about picking up their mugs to everyone's protests.

Harry frowned, attempting to hold onto his mug as if it was his first born, "Hey, what're you do—"

"Professor Umbridge is coming," His team's eyes all widened, and they were quick to hide into a corner, careful to keep themselves hidden. Itachi calmly went about and emptied their mugs into the sink before he stuffed the cups in the cabinet used for dishwear.

Turning to the confused looking Hagrid as he regained his seat, he explained calmly. "Professor Dolores Umbridge is the new Defense teacher, sent in place of Remus due to Ministry insistence. She is also the newly instated Hogwarts High Inquisitor, a new creation of large power, and a general thorn in the Order's side."

"Why'rn't yeh hidin' as well?"

He sipped his tea from his suddenly wooden mug, "I am a teacher."

But before another word could pass between them, there was a misleadingly dainty knock upon the door. Fang immediately reacted, bounding over happily and leaving the still invisible group alone.

Hagrid opened the door, and the frog lady rudely pushed her way in, searching the room greedily with her eyes. Her smirk faltered slightly as she landed her gaze on Itachi and no one else.

Hagrid greeted her, and they made small talk, which Itachi choose to keep out of as much as he could. Unfortunately, he was dragged into the conversation eventually.

"So, Professor Uchiha, what are you doing here?" She asked, deceptively sweet.

"This is not a totalitarian government. I am allowed to socialize with whomever I choose during my free time, whenever that time is, and as such, am not required to answer. However, I can ask the same of you, as not only have you never met Hagrid before, but you have not gained permission to enter his home and this is most certainly not within business hours where you can wield your 'High Inquisitor' powers as stated in the rule book you yourself posted." He replied as if explaining a simple potion.

Her face colored a few shades, but her smile stayed firm. "Being Hogwarts High Inquisitor has no off time, _Professor_, so I can go where I please. The business hours is for those who wish to see me. For my reasons I was... following the footsteps of students. As a fellow teacher, you know I have full rights to investigate." Her explanation only had the slightest pause, but Itachi caught onto it, and he felt his eyes narrow just slightly at the fabricated reason. She knew of Hagrid's trip.

"So," She said, turning again to the now nervous Hagrid, "why were there_ three_ sets of footprints in the snow leading to your house?"

"Well—er—"

"Those were mine." Itachi cut in.

Buggy eyes narrowed in irritation, but the smile was still 'I got you now!' as she once again looked towards the ninja. "Really? So why were they only leading _towards_ the cabin?"

"Do you have any training in tracking?"

Her smug smile started to wilt, "Well, no, but—"

"Then you can't possibly know for certain which direction they were in. I came here earlier, but Hagrid had yet to return, so I left and came back. And as you can see," he gestured around the room widely with both hands, "There is no one else here but Hagrid and myself."

"But—"

"Prove me wrong."

The air intensified and grew with every passing second as Umbridge abruptly turned and went about vigorously searching the hut. But, she found not a trace of another person, and as she seemingly peered into the giant pot Hagrid used to cook, she broke the near suffocating silence. "I'll get you, Uchiha." She hissed with enough malice for Itachi's eyebrows to raise, "It may not be today, but I swear I'll catch you breaking the rules and have your wand snapped and you shipped off to Azkaban. You and that Potter boy and his friends who I KNOW ARE IN HERE!" She turned around as she screamed, her eyes bulging grotesquely and Itachi was thankful that she didn't notice Hermione's shocked gasp in her own delusional rant.

"If they are in here, then why are there only_ three_ foot prints, Professor? Unless, of course, I have acquired the ability to walk across snow without leaving a trace, or maybe I can just Apparate inside school grounds?" He raised his eyebrows at her, glad that he had purposefully walked directly in the path of Hermione, blurring her smallest footprints with his own.

Umbridge's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, and her eyes glazed over with a slightly insane gleam.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we were discussing Hagrid's trip to southern France, where his friend—Ms. Olympe Maxime wasn't it?—owned a house you stayed at to recover from the nasty run in with the Acromantula at Aragog's death, the poor thing."

Lips pursed tighter then he had even thought possible, the stout woman stomped from the cabin, her entire being stiff with suppressed rage. Hagrid, who was still standing next to the door, closed it numbly after her.

Itachi took another calm sip of his tea as Hagrid called an all clear.

"Man, Itachi, you got _balls_."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped as she too walked out from the cloak.

"Big ones," he continued, completely ignoring the blushing anger his friend directed to him, "made of _steel_."

"Itachi, I don't really think provoking her is such a good idea..." Harry started, sitting down in his former seat. "I mean, I can understand defying her and everything, but you just jabbed a dragon in the eye with a sharp stick!"

"The law is on my side, the very law she so covets. If she tries anything outside it, however, I'll just remove her from the picture. Would you like me to get you your tea cups again?" He expertly ignored the four (well, three and a half) hard stares he was receiving as he went about pouring everyone's cups. All of them knew of his bloody history, but that didn't mean they liked it. "However," He continued, redirecting their attentions, "until she finds or creates a way to me, the one who has the most to worry about with her is you, Hagrid."

"Oh?" Hagrid said, carefully watching his cup as his hand still held the slab of meat. He accepted Itachi for what he was the most out of the people in the room, though he heavily disapproved of it, and thus was the first to respond. "An' why is that?"

"Because she grades teachers on their performance. She's trying to weed out the ones closest to Dumbledore." Hermione said urgently; glad to be on a different topic.

"With what you have in your classes, I'm worried that you'll be failed straight out." Harry said, honestly concerned. "Can you please just follow Professor Grubbly-plank's itinerary, if at least for her interview?"

"Bah!" Hagrid waved his free hand, as if shooing a pesky fly, "My lesson's gunna be real interestin', an' I won't change it."

"Hagrid, this is serious! The only reason Itachi and Professor McGonagall aren't gone is because they're so damn prim at being professors!"

"Why thank you, Ronald."

"That wasn't a complement."

"Regardless, I have to agree. If Ms. Sybill was still teacher here, she would probably not have passed her exam like I have; Professor Umbridge does not care for the prediction field in general, and Ms. Sybill... never was the best."

"Where is she now, anyhow?"

The only girl in the room snorted, "She is currently serving as Dumbledore's secretary, as far as I know. She's far more suited to _that_ task then reading _death omens_ in _cups_ every day to helpless students."

"Hermione," Itachi said warningly, towards the tone she used. He may have once agreed with her, but he had matured beyond insulting someone behind their backs, as well as the fact he too, read those same cups everyday.

"What? She's not a Professor anymore so I can have my own opinion on her!" She cross her arms and harrumphed, pouting ever so slightly. Perhaps it was because it was Itachi she was talking to, or perhaps she just really hated the woman that much, but she did not seem her normal, rational self at that moment.

He looked at her in silence, as if truly seeing her for the first time. He realized, at that point, just how young and immature she was, compared to ninja, compared to _him._ He sighed and slowly set down his empty cup. "I think it is time for you to go to bed," His eyes caught Ron and Harry's surprised gazes, "_All_ of you."

"What?" They all collectively shouted, "No!"

"That's not fair!"

"We still have a lot to say to Hagrid!"

"And you said it yourself, you wouldn't stop us earlier!"

"We have a right to hear about this too!"

"You're the same age as us, if you stay, we do too!"

He glanced down, looking away from their angry glares, "Alright, you can stay..." He nodded slightly, almost to himself. "But it will cost fifty house points." He looked up again, noting their shocked features. "_Each_."

They paled at the words for both the dread of the lost points, and at the seeming injustice of his threat. Harry avoided his eyes, Ron glared for all he was worth, and Hermione shot him a hurt look. Itachi disregarded them, and waited patiently for an answer. He didn't have to wait long.

Silence reigned as the door nearly slammed behind the newly invisible children. Itachi just poured himself some more drink.

"Yeh know..." Hagrid started up slowly, "I'd never'a thought you'd be teh one ter pull rank..."

"I'm not." He sipped calmly at his cup, "But, if they had been ready to actually participate in what we are about to discuss, they would have stayed regardless of the danger of point reduction."

"So... yeh wouldn've taken the points?"

"No, I would have." He shrugged, talking over his tea, "But that's all I would have done. That was a test, a test which they failed. Life is more then a House competition. There will come a time when they will choose information over winning at a game, and then—and only then—will they be treated as adults. Now," He set down his cup and looked full into Hagrid's face. "I will inform you what has happened since you have left..."

And with each word, Hagrid's bruised face paled to a more ashen tone, till there was naught but a green smear where the purplish black once appeared.


	11. Chapter 11 : Classes and Detentions

Updated 28 Jan, 2012

**XXXXX**

It was with growing apprehension that the golden trio made their way to their _Care of Magical Creatures_ class the next Tuesday morning. But thankfully, the frog was no where to be seen when they trudged through the snow towards the half giant of a man. Worryingly, however, was that he looked even worse then before, his wounds only partially healed and he was—ominously—carrying a dead cow over his shoulder.

Harry was surprised to see Malfoy, who hadn't been in a _Care of_ class since the very first day in their third year, standing next to the giant man, holding what looked to be a bit and bridal. He was even more surprised to see how... muted he looked. Almost as if he had too much to think about to be bothered with everyday life. But that couldn't be it; he was a selfish prude that didn't think beyond his own nose. Must be girl problems, Harry snorted to himself. Probably got Pansy knocked up, and is wondering how to squirm his way out of the situation.

"Al'ight!" Hagrid called out as everyone gathered around him. "We're workin' in here today! Bit more sheltered from the cold, and more suited ter the creatures likes. Malfoy here will be helping today, as he has quite o' bit of experience with 'em."

All the students' eyes dropped to the impossible blond, staring in confusion as he looked at them in a distant manner. Harry remembered when Malfoy last—to his knowledge—went into the forest, and how terrified he was then. Now he just looked... bored, in a distracted way. But how could he have experience with some god-forsaken creature of Hagrids?

"Ready?" The Behemoth of a man called, "Right, well, I've been waitin' ter bring yeh inter the Forest fer yer fifth year, and now we can go'n see these creatures in their natural habitat. They're pretty rare, so I reckon I'm the on'y man in Britain ter have trained 'em."

Oh Merlin, what if it was a Chimera? Why wasn't Malfoy scared?

"Follow me!" With nervous glances to his school friends, Harry grimaced and followed his large friend into the depths of the trees. It didn't take them that long to make it into a certain spot where snow no didn't touch the ground and the area was in a constant state of semi-darkness. And, already, Harry heard three people stub their toes on exposed roots.

"Now," Hagrid said as he dumped the cow onto the ground without much preamble, "These guys like the dark and will like ter know we're frien'ly, so Malfoy will call 'em." He clasped the much smaller aforementioned person on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to the ground in abruptness.

Malfoy, who was rudely shoved out of his revere from the slap that almost brought him to his knees, blushed in extreme embarrassment, even in this lighting, at being put on the spot. But, he (amazingly) just shouldered the harness, cleared his throat, cupped his mouth and dutifully called out into the darkness at a surprising volume for the boy, "KAAAAATY! ROXAAAN! WILLLLLIAM! APPREEEENTICE! DINNER! Come and get it!"

When nothing but the few snickers of both classes sounded, Draco kept his back to the class and called again. Harry was just about to think he'd call again when he saw the terrifying black, winged skeletal horse creature he saw earlier that year. And despite seeing the white eyed, dragon face begin to take big chunks of the deceased cow's flesh, Harry was happy—here was _proof_ (beyond a crazy girl's word) that these things really existed. Eagerly he pointed to where Malfoy (who apparently saw the thing as well) was petting the creature as one would a common horse, looking at Ron with a grin that froze as he saw the red head's expression, one of high confusion and almost glee, as if he had been finally proven right.

"What's Malfoy doing? Has he finally lost it?"

"Show me with yer hands, who can see 'em?" Two more appeared from the darkness, and one was a little smaller then the other. Perhaps a mother and... foal? Was there even such a thing in the beasts, or did they just appear out of the darkness?

Harry raised his, and noted that only Neville and some stringy Slytherin raised theirs as well. Hagrid looked around and noted the students, his gaze lingering on Neville more then anyone else. "More'n I'd expected. Now, of those who can see 'em, who can say _why_ yeh do?"

Silence prevailed in the clearing, broken only by Hermione's quite question, whispered to Harry but heard by everyone, "See _what_, exactly?"

A loud tisk sounded, "Only those who've seen and accepted a death can see the Thestrals," Malfoy spoke up suddenly from behind the great man, holding reins that seemingly floated in mid air.

Hermione's "Oh!" was drowned out by Parvati's shriek as she suddenly started to back up. "T-those are terrible luck! Anyone who sees one is cursed forever, and—"

"Don't tell me you believe in that stupid superstition," The blond Slytherin sneered, falling back into his normal role of being an ass, "Anyone with brains would realize it's not true. After all, I've seen them for _ages_ and nothing has happened."

Parvati's mouth snapped closed, a blush raging across her features as all the Slytherin's laughed at her expense, even though a few of them looked somewhat apprehensive as well. And, surprisingly, Harry could have sworn he heard Hermione stifle a snicker. He turned to her, mouth a gape, but her face was a calm mask when he looked.

"Quiet down, quite down! Malfoy, show 'er some respect, ev'n if she's a tad superstitious!" Hagrid glared down at the Pureblood, before turning back to his class. "Now, despite the Thestrals' hardly earned reputation, they're _damned_ smart and useful. Hogwarts has a whole herd of 'em, who pull teh carriages at the beginin' an' end o' each year. Dumbledore also uses 'em when he don' wan' ta Apparate—they're excellent flyers 'n cin get almost anywheres within Britain within 'n hour. Malfoy has been taken' care o' them fer o'er two years now, ain't that righ'?"

"Yes," He said proudly, his chest thrown out. And from the way most of the students were looking at him like he was some kind of Saint, he should be. "They're pretty cool once you get to know them. This one is Apprentice, a colt of just a year. He's the nicest of the bunch, aren't you, Apprentice?" He patted the side of the skull affectionately. How he was able to tell the difference between the things was lost to Harry.

"Can I... Can I pet him?" Pansy said, breathlessly. She was trembling from head to foot, but looked like she would jump in front of a lion if it came to impressing the blond boy.

He scoffed, "Of course!" And as he guided her hands to the thick, black main of the dragonic horse, he shot a smug look over in Harry's direction, which he returned with a scowl. Prat.

"Now, Thestrals are carnivorous in nature an'..."

"_Hem, hem_."

"...Sometimes eat small birds and teh like, bu' mainly they're scavengers. These'uns..."

"_Hem, hem!_"

"...Are trained ter not eat the school's post owls..."

"Professor Hagrid!"

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid finally turned around to face the short, green covered woman. Harry assumed it was because he'd never heard her fake cough before that the man had probably thought it was one of the beasts before them.

Her lips were pursed as she clutched at her note book with tight fingers. "I assume you received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?"

"O' course! Glad yeh made it, actually. We're doin' Thestrals today..."

"I'm sorry?" She asked, cupping her ears as if straining to hear him. "What did you say?"

Frowning, Hagrid crouched down so they were much closer in height, though he was still a good head or two above her, and spoke in a firm, clear (somewhat slow) voice. "Thestrals. Rare, protected breed of Magical Horse."

She smiled at him, though Harry could see the tightening of her eyes. "Ah, I see. Thank you." She made a note in her clip board.

"Now," Hagrid said again, standing once more. "Thestrals are largely reclusive an' like the dark, which's why they're 'n 'ere..."

"Are you aware that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous'?" Professor Umbridge spoke up lightly, breaking into his lecture, making a false note on her clip board. A few of the more skittish of the class, who had been approaching the still calm (in fact, seem to be enjoying the attention) horse Malfoy held, quickly jumped back a few steps at her comment.

Hagrid chuckled, "They use ta, yeh mean. Changed it a year're so ago, when Black and teh Minister rode two'er 'em ta the Ministry. They've had a bad run with da superstition an' all, but we act'ly keep a Thestral fer the Minster now, dat one o'er there. Name's Snuffles." Harry, along with most of the class, snickered behind their hands at that; Harry could just see the Minister's personal assistant asking if he'd be riding 'Snuffles' over to Hungary, or something. 'Yes, Metilda, that would be wonderful. Snuffles needs his exercise now and again,' Harry snickered quietly.

"Yes, yes, I see..." Umbridge said sourly, not even glancing in the direction Hagrid pointed. Reluctantly, she made a mark on her paper.

"Anyways, there're loads o' stuff good abou' Thestrals. Once you got one tamed, yeh'll never become lost o'gain. 'Mazing sense o' direction, an' jus' as smart, so jus' tell 'em where yeh wants ter go and yeh'll be on yer way..."

"And you, Longbottom, you can see them?" Umbridge, apparently tired of trying to weedle an abnormally calm and clear headed Hagrid (Whatever Itachi told him last night must have readied him against the frog—perhaps he foretold what she was going to do?) turned to the obviously nervous young man, one of the few who weren't clustered around the Thestral, who was having his wing joint scratched by, amazingly, Parvati.

He nodded, watching Hagrid instructing Goyle how to hold a piece of meat (a large, partially eaten leg) so three of the still remaining Thestrals could eat it out of his hands. "Uh, yeah... I can..."

"Who did you see die?" She asked indifferently.

"My... my grandad."

"And what do you think of them?"

"They're..." He watched how the usually scowling, stupid look on Goyle's face brightened into a (stupid) smile as chunks of meat seemingly vanished into thin air. "...ok." He finished with a hesitant smile himself.

"I see..." Her face devoid of expression, she made another reluctant mark on her paper. Her buggy eyes scanned the clearing, looking for any other stragglers, but every last one of the students were around one of the creatures, whether by the ones around Goyle, or (the main body) around Malfoy, who was proudly sitting atop the back of his mount as the students around him "oohed" and "ahhed".

Snapping her clip board under her arm, Umbridge turned to Hagrid and crisply said, "You will receive your results in ten days time," before storming off, back towards Hogwarts. Harry was happy to see her go, and turned back towards the dragonic head he was petting. Only one thought plagued him, and as he looked towards his best friends, they showed they thought the same...

Who had Malfoy seen die?

**XXXXX**

After class had ended, the large Professor helped Malfoy un-harness Apprentice before dismissing the boy to go back out of the forest for his next class. He waited a bit, eyeing the Slytherin as he wandered off towards the castle. Maybe, he thought, Malfoy was able to finally return to class with the rest of the students... if Malfoy wanted to, anyway. But it wasn't up to him regardless.

So, he used his large body to the fullest, picking up the mere skeleton left over from the sacrificed cow with a single hand. The Thestrals did their work very efficiently, as there were only a few shreds of meat left and tendons holding the carcass together, and none of those were larger then a single finger.

"Here, let me 'elp yeh." A new voice, a very familiar voice, spoke up, reaching for the remains as he appeared out from behind a corpse of trees.

"Alright, thank you, Hagrid." Itachi said, dissipating his henge when the bones had left him. He, once back to his normal size, took a moment to get his bearings about him, for being in such a large shape distorted the world around him. Everything had been so small, that he had to step very carefully lest he risk crushing a helpless rake, chair, or even an animal beneath him. And if it wasn't for the fact he was _stronger_ in his normal form, he would have had difficulty controlling the strength the shape had given him as well.

Hagrid—the real Hagrid—nodded down at his fellow professor, absently gripping the remnants as if they were mere twigs as they began to walk back to the clearing for the next batch of students. "I thank yeh fer helpin' me width Umbridge, tho' I'm sad I didn't get ter show the class the Thestrals meself. Almos' didn' keep meself hidden' back ther' when Parvati said they're bad luck."

"Well, I am glad you were able to, as another Hagrid appearing surely would have caused her to fail you outright, the racist thing she is. Anything I can do against that... _woman,"_ Itachi forced out the word, "I will do with pleasure, especially if it helps a friend in need. Now," He turned to the half-giant, "I need to return to my own class. I will see you at dinner." And he was gone in a white flash of chakra.

Hagrid stared at the place the other teacher once stood, shocked but not surprised by his ability as he had been told of it the previous night when Itachi had discussed all about the happenings of the Order since he had been away. He was distressed at finding the extent the Death Eaters were influencing, and at how quickly they were. He had also been told of the Order's progress—of finding the Horcrux's and methodically destroying them. None were discovered as of yet, but they were closing in on the trails.

However, despite how much the ninja had told him last night, Hagrid knew he hadn't told him everything—namely regarding _why_ he was in Hogwarts instead of Konoha. Any time the man had tried to redirect the topic of conversation to that aspect, Itachi had skillfully redirected it away from it in such a way that Hagrid didn't remember _how_ or _when_ he did—just that he'd find them discussing something else quite abruptly.

However, the _Care of_ Professor knew that some secrets, much like the one Itachi hid, refused to be kept away, and he could only hope that Itachi would tell him one day.

For his sake.

XXXXX

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." A voice spoke out, lighting a single candle in the gloom of the deserted classroom once again.

"Good evening, sir. What are we going to do today, Professor?" Draco returned in greeting. Had he been told, just two weeks before, that he would be so readily appearing for a detention, he would have laughed, and brushed it off that he was a Prefect—he didn't get detentions: but if he did, he certainly would not enjoy them.

But Professor Uchiha's detentions... they had made him think. Seriously think about himself, looking at his life, his self. And he didn't like what he saw. After the first day, he had passed off everything onto Itachi, and cursed and spat upon the teacher whenever he thought of him—which was almost constantly. After the second day he had been so badly shaken from what he'd seen—his memories, the same memories from before, but from another person's view—that he couldn't focus on anything and had lost fifteen points for Slytherin during the various classes he had that day.

The first day, one of the things he remembered was meeting a fellow small child in a day care—one who also had magic and knew what it was. They, as very young children of a similar age, disposition and gender, instantly became friends. They spent the entire day together while the nannies sat clustered together with occasional glances to their charges, once or twice starting a group activity—which Draco and his 'new bestest friend' stayed out of so they could play Rulers of the Castle with no interruptions.

However, when Draco's mother came to collect him that evening, and he proudly showed her his friend, she only gave a terse greeting and snatched him away. As soon as they were home, she gave him a good spanking, telling him it was his friend's fault, and that if she ever saw him with such a Mudblood again, she would take away all his toys, and it was their fault. His young self was confused by her antics, but readily complied for his toys were beloved, and he hadn't done anything bad. His older self refused to accept the manipulation for what it was and blamed Uchiha for the image, though Professor Snape had told him Uchiha couldn't do Legilimency when the foreigner had come to him to learn it a few weeks ago. Some people could do it, and others could not. And Professor Snape was certain Uchiha couldn't do Legilimency, so that meant all Draco saw and heard during the nightly meetings came from his own mind.

The second day he saw everything from his friends—Fredrick was his name—view, felt the things he felt. It was amazingly similar to his own sensations from the same memory, something that could only happen between two like young children who lacked complexity in their lives. Fredrick knew nothing wrong when Draco had left that day, and had eagerly told his mother—a muggle—and his father—a half-blood—all about his day in his simple child's speech. He waited happily for the blond the next day, and greeted him warmly only to be met with distaste and anger. Fredrick was confused, not knowing the reason behind the resentment, and tried to figure it out. But, he—like Draco—was easily offended, and combined with the simple life of a child he had, the offense that could have easily been solved had they been older blew out of hand and they got into a short fight, fists and random objects flying around carelessly and wildly. They had been separated, punished, and they never talked again in the short time together at the day care before Fredrick moved away to France.

Malfoy, the older Malfoy, had bitterly and stubbornly refused to believe the obvious biased influence he had been subjected to as a child to acquire his now beliefs, though it was constantly nagging at his thoughts. Had this been the only memory like it, he would have had a much easier time dismissing it as propaganda, but the horrible thing was that this was only one in many such situations wherein his life, his friends, and his behaviors had been controlled by his parents because of a then unknown reason.

He had been so set on ignoring and suppressing the doubts that were welling up inside of him the next day, he had completely forgotten the time and—not a minute after seven o'clock had struck—Itachi had come to collect him. Appearing like a black shadow (of death) in the Slytherin common room, as if materializing out of thin air in front of Malfoy's table, he had calmly stated that it was because Draco had been working on homework (attempting was more like it, he being in sore need of a distraction from his continuously darkening thoughts even if it was the dreaded homework) that just a day would be added to his time instead of a week. However, there will be no such leniency in the future.

After the third day, when Draco had finally come across Professor Umbridge again, she questioned him heavily on what Uchiha was doing to him (not what he had him do), he oddly found himself not wanting to tell her. For whatever reason, be it that Draco was doing something very personal, or that Uchiha really hadn't done anything to him, he brushed aside her prodding questions with distaste that no, Professor Uchiha wasn't torturing or molesting him and no, he wasn't going to tell her about it. She had left him alone with a sour look to her face, not upset with him—she never got upset with him—but angry at Professor Uchiha for spoiling her actions once again.

Now, on the last day of his punishment (for which he still didn't know why Professor Uchiha had reacted the way he had), he was both anxious to get it over with, and disheartened at its conclusion. For, despite Professor Uchiha's and his innate dislike for one another, he was good at what he did. There were no firm, boring, repetitive lectures, there were no mindless tasks, and there were no idiotic lines to write. The detention was doing exactly what Professor Uchiha said he wanted it to do, and yet it wasn't brain washing Draco—the Slytherin thought for himself, and was coming to his own conclusions on his own terms.

Professor Uchiha nodded towards Malfoy's initial question, "This past week you've re-seen your past, you've seen it from other's perspectives. You've seen how your past affects your present, in both your beliefs and actions. Now, today, for the final thing I will not show you something that has already occurred. I'm going to show you what your life would have been like, had you grown up outside of that influence."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed as he followed the teacher back to their customary spot at his private desk. "How're you going to do that?" A fire, for the first time burning brightly in the small room, blazed at a comfortable level, crackling merrily and given off a warming light that flickered across the room.

Professor Uchiha smiled humorlessly as he sat behind his desk. "Before I just cast you into your own thoughts and memories using an altered spell..."

"You've been altering my thoughts?" Blond eyebrows shot impossibly high over wide, gray eyes. He froze where he was at, and anger started to bubble under his flesh—had he been brain washed this entire time?

"No, I've not. You're thinking of Legilimency, and though I am quite good at Omlumancy, Legilimency is beyond my ability... Have you ever heard of a Pensive?"

"...Yes, I do. Mother has one." Draco said, calming himself down. He carefully sat down on the comfortable pillow opposite the dark haired young man, breathing to smooth his rattled nerves. He really shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. Professor Snape would know, and he wouldn't have hidden it from him. Surely he wouldn't.

"Well, what I've done is very similar to that process. There is a spell that extracts the memory from a person (so it can go into the Pensive to start off with), and I..." Here he frowned slightly, thinking hard on a word to describe what he did, "Altered it, you could say. Everything you saw and felt was from your own head, but I just... cleared it and refined it so it showed what you didn't know you remembered, while not allowing the memory to leave your head like it would for a Pensive. Human memory is truly fascinating, if you actually get into the details of it."

"Ah, I... see..." Malfoy forced out the response, truly impressed with the Professor. It was said that it took an intelligent man to create a spell, and an ingenious one to alter it; comparable to making fire for the first time, and then changing the nature of it. His respect for the teacher went up a few more notches.

"Now, what we're going to do is go into a sort of meditative stance, and I will bring your mind into a scenario. We'll be witnessing this scene, this life, had you not been raised by your parents."

"So... basically... we're watching a story?" Draco frowned, disappointed though he wouldn't admit it.

Professor Uchiha briefly smiled that emotionless smile again, "In a round about way. What I did last night, after you left, was I candle read into the life-paths Fate didn't have you go on." He cocked his head to the side, in an almost curious pose, "You nearly were an orphan, correct?"

The impossible blond gaped, eyes as wide as dinner plates, "H-how did—?" No one was supposed to know that! His parents didn't even know he knew!

Beautiful black eyes closed, and the blank smile formed again, as though on a doll. "One of the candles I read had a life-path where you became an orphan. Now, as the candle was not about your parents, I don't know why you were, but I saw what I saw. What you will be watching today will be what I saw last night in that candle."

A thick silence descended, broken only by the popping and snapping of the blaze in the wall behind them. "What are you?" Draco choked out, shaking ever so slightly. "No one should know that!" Itachi... Itachi couldn't be human! There was no way someone could have foretold that his parents almost had been sent to Azkaban when he was just a baby. It was impossible to have known that! Seers saw into the future, not the past! And he knew for a fact the only files regarding the incident had been destroyed for years! And—and Itachi said he didn't even know why Draco's parents were to have left him, so how did he know?

The smile dropped and cool, onyx eyes opened to meet his own. They stared each other down, Draco fighting the rising terror and bile, threatening to choke him. "I thought you knew, Mr. Malfoy," He spoke quietly, a whisper of a shadow, but it was heard clearly, "I am ninja. Admittedly, I was considered a genius even among the Elite of my village, but regardless, I should never be measured by your wizard standards." If Draco didn't know any better, he would have sworn Itachi's eyes flashed red just for a fraction of a second, "Never. To do so..." The smile returned, just as lifeless as before. "Well, you just accused me of not being human, did you not?"

Swallowing heavily, Draco vowed right then and there to never cross Itachi. Ever. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could order him to on threat of death and Draco would refuse point blank.

"Now, let us get started. Could you please add another log to the fire, Mr. Malfoy?"

Still shaking slightly, he stumbled to the task, glad to focus on less frightening thoughts. He carried over the heavy log and messed with it and the tongs for a bit while Professor Uchiha thankfully looked at some notes, leaving him to his task and not seeing how he shook. He eventually couldn't dawdle any longer (the log was obviously on fire, and would not go out now) and sat down and watched Professor Uchiha nod to himself, before setting the scroll aside and looking back up again. The Asian placed his right hand on the table, palm up. "Now, place your left over mine, and your right as mine."

Draco, not trusting himself to speak, did as told with only slight hesitation. Professor Uchiha was quick to place his left over his right, and Malfoy jumped reflexively when the other teenager immediately grasped both of his hands with firm, callused fingers.

He had only just started to blush—realizing just how intimate they must appear with nothing but a fire place burning, all alone, clasping hands over a small table as if lovers—and tried to pull his hands away (he was, after all, quite straight and did not like holding hands with another boy, regardless how girly that boy was) but Itachi held firm, "There is a blood vein going from the ring finger of our left hands, straight into our hearts, and from the ring finger in our right hands directly from our hearts. They are our most spiritual connections in our bodies. Believe me, I would rather not hold your hands either, but it is necessary as I will accompany you into the scenario, so as to answer any questions you may have."

"Er, right. Well then," Draco coughed falsely, "S-Shall we get started then?"

"Clear your mind, and close your eyes. I will take over from there."

"Erm, right-o, then," And he almost eagerly clenched his eyes shut. Nothing happened for several moments, even though the Slytherin was very sure his mind was clear (besides the occasional, "Do we have to hold hands?" thought in his head that popped up). Eventually, however, there was an odd pulling sensation, and everything blinked out of existence except for Itachi's red eyes, glaring at him through the darkness.


	12. Chapter 12 : The Path not Taken

Sorry for the delay, especially with such a cliffy.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Draco is an ass in the original, but I think he has some potential to be a good person buried deep somewhere. More so then Ron does, actually, but Ron wasn't raised to be a snob, so in canon is the better person.

**XXXXX**

Frowning with his eyes still closed, Draco thought, "_Red eyes? Impossible!_" He snorted, shaking his head of the ridiculous thought. He reached up and scratched his scalp absently, berating himself for how foolish he was for thinking such a thing. Only vampires had red eyes and Professor Uchiha wasn't a vampire, no matter how pale he was. He had seen him outside in direct sunlight during the last Quidditch game... Well... he _could_ have, possibly, maybe just used lots and lots of sun repellent cream, and he always did seem more active at night, and he was very strange, and he sometimes gave off a very creepy air, and he didn't really seem to have irises within the inky black of his soulless eyes, and he was so _pale_...

"Mr. Malfoy, you really should pay more attention to your surroundings."

He jumped out of his thoughts, "Huh? Whoa!" He turned to the voice next to him, only to jump reflexively again. This was definitely _not_ where he was before. It was a very crowded, chaotic, _old_ sitting room, if one could even call it that. Looked more like what a junk room should. Everything in sight was falling apart in some way—be it the thread on the old couch, the chipping fireplace, the broken umbrella, the unmoving grandfather clock.

"Where are we?"

"We are at the house you would have grown up in had you followed this particular life path."

He frowned in obvious distaste. Hadn't these people ever heard of a decorator? "I would have grown up _here_? In _this_ dump?"

"Actually," Professor Uchiha said, looking around himself with mild interest, "From what I know, this is far better then what it is in our present. I was unable to determine why, as it does not deal directly with your life-path, but logically it would probably have to do with a trust fund set up in your name. Normally in such a situation as yours in this life, a monthly allotment is given to the family to pay for food, clothing, and such. It probably is quite a sum, given the stature of your family at the time of their removal. And, I remember that a House Elf followed you from the Malfoy manor over to here."

He still sneered about him, very glad to have grown up where he had where things were _organized_, and _new_ (or at least, an actual antique).

"Now, you will not be able to interact with anyone or thing in this vision, as neither of us are really here. We are merely observers in this tale. I was able to choose the day to show you out of the entire lifespan I'd witness, and I thought this one would be best."

"What day is that?" Despite what Professor Uchiha had said, Draco was careful not to touch anything, least he catch its... poorness.

But Itachi just smirked at him, and disregarded the question, "Your room is this way." And the world suddenly blurred around them, as if they were traveling faster then the eye could see.

Thankfully, it didn't last long, and the room snapped back into focus, though they were now in a room different then before. Obviously a bedroom (and a messy one at that), the room's owner had their back turned to them, and was sleeping away the early morning like any sane person should. The room was slightly cramped, and was decorated in a simple white and light blue color. The azure painted dresser had various clothes stuffed carelessly into it, pushed up against the wall with the door. On the bed was a large comforter, reasonably crumpled from a night's sleep, but still had a distinct, visible insignia on it Draco didn't recognize. The white carpet was a mess of strewn out books, magazines, trash, and occasionally piece of clothing such as a sock or some underwear and one solitary shoe that seemed hell bent to trip Malfoy.

"Wha—OMPH!"

"Careful. There was a shoe there."

"Yeah, thanks for the notice." He heaved himself up, and looked more closely at the posters on the wall that had snagged his attention (also causing him to trip over the evil shoe), and noticed with disgust and mild curiosity, not that he'd admit it, that the figures displayed on them didn't move. There was just short of a dozen of these posters, each displaying a different person or live-action shot, pinned to every visible surface, including the ceiling. The only thing they had in common was a black and white checkered ball in somewhere in the picture, the same colored uniform, and the same insignia as on the comforter.

Sneering at the odd muggle sport, Draco looked closely at the tousled head that was partially buried at the head of the small bed. It was the same shade of his hair, but he couldn't see the face, so he could only hope. "Are you _sure_ this is—?"

"DRACO! TIME TO GET UP!" The very loud, unfamiliar voice was accompanied by loud, firm but not crude knocking on the door, dispelling any false hopes the Slytherin had.

The 'other' Malfoy groaned in his spot before rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows, "I'm up, I'm up! Stop already, Mum!" Draco frowned; this woman was obviously not his mother.

"Remember," Itachi spoke up, as if reading his thoughts, "Mr. Malfoy, that you have been raised by these people almost from the day of your birth. To this you, even though you realize and accept that you are adopted, they are still your family and are referred to as such."

The knocking stopped, "Well, dear, I'm just making sure you don't miss the train to go to school!" Said the feminine voice before she chuckled and made her way down the hall, where a similar, muted pounding occurred on another door down the hall.

'Other' Draco smiled brightly, as if just remembering himself, and reached over to the overflowing nightstand and withdrew a pair of oval, gold and wire rimmed glasses. Draco frowned in disgust, but this just confirmed this as what really _would_ have happened had he not been raised by his parents—he had naturally bad vision, but had it magically corrected as soon as it was discovered when he was eight.

Oblivious to the two watchers, the Other Draco reached over to the nightstand again, and flicked on a strange device. With a somewhat delayed reaction, a new, strange voice began to talk in rapid Italian while the Other Draco went about getting dressed.

And while Draco was completely fascinated by watching his younger self get ready for the day ahead, the device drew his attention while his Other Self was pulling on some trousers. It was strange. Black with red numbers depicting the time, and two sides of its face covered in small holes, it didn't look like anything Draco had seen before. There was a weird string leading off of it, connecting to a black box on the ground. A wand was partially inserted into the top, and stood at a slight angle. And though most likely it was the Other Dracos', it was not the same wand as the one in his pocket at this very moment.

"This is called a 'radio' in your language," Draco jumped at the sudden voice, not prepared for it to speak right next to his head. Professor Uchiha stood behind him, looking at the 'radio' with the same mild curiosity as he had everything else. "Though it has been, obviously, manipulated somewhat by magic, it is generally well intact from what I know of your 'Father' in this life. That black box down there is the electric source for the radio to work, as the house does not have one of its own."

"An el-ek-trik source?"

Professor Uchiha blinked for a second, looking at him, as if he had forgotten that Draco did not (obviously) fool around with muggle things. '_What am I, a blood traitor?'_ He frowned back at the black haired man, and though he would deny it to the last breath, he didn't think that was such an insult anymore. "Kind of like the core in wands. Outside power so it can work."

"Oh." Draco coughed, before correcting the assumption Professor Uchiha had probably formed about him, "I knew what a radio is, but I just didn't know that Muggles have them also."

"Muggles invented them."

"Oh." He looked back at the muggle radio for another few moments, then turned back to his Other self, only to be shocked that he was frozen while putting on his trousers.

"I have the ability to control the time and flow of this scenario. I have paused it so we didn't miss anything or are distracted during an explanation."

And, as if to prove Professor Uchiha correct, the Other Draco started moving again, finishing putting on his strange ensemble. It was an outfit just like that on the various posters—light blue shirt with a blocked number on the back, white shorts, and matching high-rise blue socks. He was just pulling on the last length of sock when he stopped, turning and gaping over at the two intruders. And his face looked so shocked, so horrified, that Malfoy was worried that they had been spotted for a heartbeat.

But the moment passed when the boy started spouting off in Italian, face crinkling in anger. He stomped his way over, and Draco moved out of the way, not certain how solid he would find his Other Self, and not certain he wanted to know. The Other Draco yelled directly at the radio, but even Malfoy knew that the man on the other end—frantically yelling something or other himself—couldn't hear him.

"What's he saying?"

"Who, Other You, or the radio man?"

"Either."

"I have no idea. I don't speak... whatever language that is." Professor Uchiha shrugged, and Malfoy stared at him. At that moment, he suddenly remembered Professor Uchiha was only fifteen—the same age as him, though he didn't remember when he had forgotten that fact. "But I assume, from logic, that it is a sports broadcast of the game he has on his walls, 'Foosball' or something."

"Football?" Even as a wizard, Draco had known that name. It was the biggest sport in the world—in _both_ worlds. While not nearly as popular as Quidditch among the magically inclined, it still was listed in the top three favorite sports of most athletic wizards, especially if they had a close muggle relative. The Malfoys were, of course, Quidditch purists, and disregarded any other professionally played sports, which was probably why Draco did not recognize the ball in the picture.

"Yes, I believe that was it." He shrugged carelessly again, black eyes following the movements of the Other Draco as he finished putting on his shoes.

Before Draco could say something else, however, a loud bang announced the arrival of two horribly familiar people. They grinned widely at the Other Draco, who had jumped from the sudden noise.

"Aw, widdle Draco's all weady to go to scewll..."

"Would you wike us to help you wid yer trunky-wonky?"

"Stuff it!" Other Draco snapped at the red heads, in a practiced younger sibling way. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"

"_Sure_ you're not," one of them said, nodding compliantly.

"And I'm a little green faery," the other snarked.

"Go bother Ron!"

"Mum say's he's off limits until he's dressed—"

"—and we all know you get up earlier then Ronny-woddy, Draco-wako."

"You get that end, Fred."

"Right-o, then, but I thought I was George today?"

"Hold up! I need to get my posters first!"

The twins glanced at each other and one shrugged helplessly while the other snorted. "You and your football obsession..."

"_Italia Perfetto!_"

Draco, by this time, had gotten over his shock, and was standing very stiffly, staring at the twins. He had grown up... with the _Weasleys_? Of all people, the _Weasleys?_!

The world around them became mute as the siblings bickered, and Professor Uchiha, spoke up to fill the quite. "For some reason, all your closest relatives couldn't take you in as a babe, and your Godfather was disregarded completely. I assume it was because the same reason your parents were taken out of the picture, but regardless, you came to Molly Weasley, as she was the closest, willing relative that wasn't connected to Voldemort's—" Draco flinched at the name, but as it didn't surprise him that Uchiha would disregard the social propriety to the name, he didn't make any note of it, "—upheaval. A second cousin to your mother, once removed, I believe the relationship is."

And the world was thrown back into sound, just as the Other Draco had finished putting the last poster in the light blue trunk. The ones on the ceiling remained, and though the Other Draco cast them sad looks, he made no attempt to remove them.

"That's it, then?" Asked the supposed George, already heaving up the just closed trunk.

"Don't forget your wand, boy-o." The maybe Fred said, and the twins carried the trunk out the door and down the hall.

With a sad air, and a last pause to listen in, the Other Malfoy clicked off the muggle radio, and removed the wand. He looked as if he was leaving his first born to die as he backed out of the room, following his adopted siblings.

Draco didn't move from his spot for the longest moment, shocked at how the Other Him was. This couldn't possibly have happened... could it? He did have a poster of the Irish team's Seeker, but his mother always said they were a low class thing, so he could only have one. And he did have a radio next to his bed, so he could listen to what he wanted when he did, but... No, this _couldn't_ have happened. He _wouldn't_ believe it could. A light push to his shoulder abruptly dragged him out of his thoughts, and he turned to look into the black eyes of the teacher.

"Come on, we should follow you." He said, before turning and making his way through the open door. Draco steeled himself and swallowed, following diligently.

They made their way down not one, but two flights of stairs, into the now crowded sitting room. Draco had never been in such a small sitting room with so many people before, and he was feeling slightly phobic of the small space in which he and Professor Uchiha crouched. No one in the room, not the tall, balding father, not the short, somewhat plump mother, not the various children or the Other Draco even glanced at the corner where Draco and Professor Uchiha sat, though they took up a large, plush chair located there. They watched as the mayhem of first day of term, everyone in everyone's way, shouting, laughter, the hoot of owls as they were placed next to the door to await transportation.

"Alright everyone!" Molly Weasley called out, over the ruckus of everyone doing whatever they were doing. "If you haven't already, finish your food, and we should be on our way soon in your father's car!"

There was a collective groan at that announcement, though the Other Draco and the newly arrived Ronald looked positively giddy. They nudged each other familiarly as they gulped down their breakfast, obviously eager to go to Hogwarts. Draco concluded that they had to be first years, from their size and their attitudes. He wondered, what house would he go into? Hopefully, he'd go into Slytherin again, the best house. But having been raised by a bunch of muggle loving Gryffindors? He shuddered at the very notion of going into the lion house.

Soon enough, however, everyone was gathering the last of their things, and piling out of the house to the sorrowful waves of a House Elf (what _was_ his name, anyway? Dooby? Snobby? Eh, whatever.), the Other Draco and Ron nearly vibrating in anticipation. Everyone, even the astral bodies of the 'real' Draco and Itachi, crammed themselves into the strange looking muggle car. And no matter how hard Draco tried to figure it out, when everyone was in the car, the two astral bodies seated on the back seat along with the twins, Other Draco, and Ronald, but they weren't touching each other, no matter how crammed in the Weasleys (Plus one Malfoy) were.

They traveled along with the persons of another world, ever silent. Professor Uchiha, as far as Malfoy knew, was commonly this quiet, but he himself normally would be chatting with his underlings on long trips. Silences made him nervous, though he'd never admit it. In fact, Other Draco was apparently the same, and was currently engaged in a telling what had happened to his football team that morning to the willing and semi willing ears. Thankfully, he had translated to English for his..._ family's_ benefit.

"You learned that language," Draco turned to the teacher as the scene around them once again froze in time, blinking when he realized that Professor Uchiha was apparently dozing off as he sat in his seat, "When you got the radio for your seventh birthday. It was the only other gift you received, along with the language lessons from a squib down the road. As for the sport of Foosball—"

"Football," He corrected absently.

"_Foot_ball, you learned of it at the age of six from another boy, a muggle, who's father was an announcer for the game. They supported the Italian team, and told you only of them. You were obsessed about it since. The radio you had adapted through magical means so you could listen into the games no matter where they were located. Your wand—Ash, twelve inches, unicorn hair, thin but very stiff—once you received it a month ago, was immediately used to help clear up the reception. Your current dream is to become an announcer for them, because as a Brit by birth and upbringing, you are unable to join the team."

His face crunched up unknowingly, digesting the information. It was around the similar age where he had become obsessed with Quidditch, he was pretty sure. But he obviously knew of the flying sport through the Weasleys, so he had no idea why the muggle sport had so intrigued his adopted-self. Perhaps it was the novelty of no magic (as a rule; there _were_ actually a few wizard and squib players, but every Wizarding government had laws against using magic in muggle professional sports) that had snagged his interest. Who knew? "How _do_ you know this, anyway?" How limited was the knowledge of candle reading?

"I already told you, Mr. Malfoy. I candle read, and this was the life path a specific candle read. I, in a sense, watched you grow up day by day under fourteen different circumstances until your death, or until you turned sixteen."

His eyebrows rose at the extent which Professor Uchiha foresaw, before crunching down in slight confusion. "Why only until I turned sixteen?" What was so important about his sixteenth birthday, a half a year away? He didn't question about his "deaths" as surely there would have been one or two where he'd die before turning sixteen—like if Itachi hadn't saved him from the Hippogriph, for instance. Or that time he nearly choked to death on that ever lasting gumdrop when he was nine. He refused to eat the things since, but that was besides the at hand point.

"Candle reading, or Ceromancy as it is also known, is a derivative of Pyromancy and is not for predicting the future. The most someone can foretell with it is roughly seven months—seven full-moon spans being the exact time frame. I didn't feel the need to extend the entire time, so I just rounded up the remaining life-paths to that certain date. Proper candle reading is a very difficult thing to do, but I am of the belief that it was the best option for this last day."

During his entire speech, Itachi hadn't moved from his almost dozing position—his arms remained crossed, his head nestled down on his chest, and his eyes closed. All in all, he seemed calm, almost bored, as if this was a common occurrence for him. But Draco was a whole other story. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes were wide in shock. Candle reading hadn't rung any alarms for him, but its true name, Ceromancy, rang truer then a tower bell. Long a highly prized and highly difficult art, it was argued to be one of the hardest forms of life path reading, and without a doubt the hardest flame reading. There was but a handful of people in the world who could truly candle read, and of those but one or two could read a tale in as much detail like the one he was witnessing, and only one in a generation could read into the future of a life path. It was said that Ceromancy was reading the book belonging to Death Himself, a book of _every_ possible life and death.

Draco's mouth worked soundlessly, his eyebrows coming down to bunch roughly on his forehead. "...Why? Why are you doing so much for this? Why are you even..._ trying_?" The last came out before he knew it, and Draco immediately jerked back and bit his treacherous tongue, cursing his mouth.

Professor Uchiha lifted his head, and calmly locked gazes with Draco's grey eyes. "Because, I am a teacher. It is what I do."

Draco wanted to tell him that, No, teachers did not go to the lengths he did. No, they just followed the curriculum, enforced the rules, and _occasionally_ are merely _interesting_. They don't aim to alter a single student's life so much—_so much_—stretching themselves to the limits of their abilities, just to _possibly_ show a _single_ child the error in his ways, the ways forced upon him, in such a manner as to allow the same student to choose his own fate. They just... didn't.

But the words stuck in his throat, and he lost his chance as Itachi went back to his doze, and the world around them burst back into motion, bringing nearly oppressive noise with it.

"Press the button, Dad, press the button!"

XXXXX

They made it to Kings Cross station, it being the usual bustle of muggles. Everyone spilled out of the _flying_—Draco was... 'shocked' to discover—car and grabbed their trunks, the two adults directing the children around them. The muggles around them avoided both touch and eye contact, as they probably never saw something like seven people (six of which had flaming red hair) all with very large trunks and three hooting owls.

"Goodbye everyone, and have a good term!" Arthur Weasley called as he drove the car away, waving out the window and almost getting into a crash. Molly Weasley waved as well, before turning and started to lead the very large group through the non-magical train station. Draco and Professor Uchiha followed diligently, and while the professor was still maintaining that almost bored air, Draco was feeling the familiar stirrings of anticipation of a new school year, even though this was not real. He felt odd not pushing his own trunk, an eagle owl balanced atop it, the way his Other Self was.

"Mum, what's with all the muggles?"

"It's always packed with muggles, of course. It _is_ a muggle train station."

"Aw, Ronniekins' first time wid muggle-wuggles?"

"Shut up!"

"George, leave Ron alone. Now children, what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three-quarters! Mom, can't I go?" Ginny, the only girl-child, whined once again to the mother.

Draco glanced out the corner of his eye towards the ever silent teacher, only to see the Asian staring at something other then the Weasleys. He followed his gaze, and soon saw none other then Harry Potter, looking quite decidedly nervous, not a few steps away. He was smaller then Draco ever remembered him to be, and he was slightly surprised to see that he was alone. He almost wondered where his guardians were, when he remembered that they were muggles. Unknowingly, he frowned, not feeling satisfied with the answer for some reason.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George. Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," the twin grinned and pushed his cart towards the platform, and vanished through the portal. The had-to-be George followed, making sure his barn owl wouldn't tip over in his cage as he ran to catch up.

"Excuse me," Harry Potter asked Molly. Everyone in the remaining group turned to look at him, but no one seemed to recognize him. Draco remembered that he himself didn't realize it was Harry who he had met in the clothing store, so long ago.

The mother redhead absently told the jittery dark haired boy how to get through the simple barrier, and away he went. The Other Draco was next, followed closely by Ron and the girls, who didn't have a cart and came in together. The twins had already vanished, along with the eldest, so Other Draco and Ronald helped each other with their trunks into a free spot in a luggage compartment before coming back off the train for last minute goodbyes.

"Oh, Draco dear, your hair's messed again." A comb appeared in Mrs. Wesley's hands, and she brushed his slightly tousled hair back into perfect place.

"Mum, stop it!" Other Draco protested and tried to get away, but she was much larger then he and had a firm grip on his arm. "Hey, look, Ron's got something on his nose!"

"Traitor!" Ronald squirmed under her almost instantaneous handkerchief, trying to get away from the incessant rubbings.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his noise?" One of the twins appeared next to the youngest, while the other came up behind Other Draco and messed his hair.

"Hey!" Other Draco called, smoothing his rumpled locks with a hand, incase his... mother decided to turn her attentions back onto him.

"Shut up!" Ron finally squirmed free, and covered his nose protectively.

"Hey, you know that kid we helped earlier—?" Began one twin.

"—he's Harry Potter!"

Conversation drifted as the now robed Prefect stride back to the group, and soon they all were on the train, and waved goodbye to the mother Weasley as the train left the station. Percy and the twins vanished off in their own directions, and the two soon-to-be first years shared a slightly relieved and nervous grin with one another before setting off to find an open compartment. Every one was either full or only had one open seat, so they trudged on along the hall, until they came across Harry Potter, sitting all by himself in one near the back of the train. Huh. Draco had always assumed Harry joined Ronald, not the other way around.

"Um, can we sit here?" Ron was the first to speak, breaking the three way staring contest the group was having.

"Everywhere else is full," Other Draco supplied quickly.

"Er, sure, go ahead." Harry Potter made an awkward movement towards the free seats.

They had scarcely sat down when Other Draco asked, "Are you _really_ Harry Potter?"

"Draco!" Ron hissed, elbowing his... brother.

"What?" Other Draco hissed back, holding his now sore ribs. "It could just be another one of Fred and George's silly little pranks!"

"Hey, Ron, Draco." The twins had materialized again, as if their names had summoned them from the train's floor. "Listen, we're going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

Ron paled a shade, "Right."

"Stop scaring him," Other Draco scowled. A snort was his only response.

"Harry, did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother, and Draco, our orphaned charity case."

"Stuff it!" Other Draco, lunged towards the larger boys, anger twisting his features. They had been expecting this, apparently, as they both quickly dashed away with howls of glee. The younger blond stood in the door way and hurled insults at their backs, before snorting and shutting the compartment door. However, he seemed to calm down considerably from the door to his seat, and as he sat down, he merely looked irritated. He turned to the gaping Potter boy, "I'm adopted. My real last name's Malfoy, but everyone calls me Draco Weasley; I prefer it, actually."

"Right," Harry blinked a bit, before smiling hesitantly. "And yes, I'm Harry Potter."

"Do you really got—you know..." Ron trailed off, pointing to the other boy's forehead.

Draco, from his seat apparently situated directly in front of the window, facing the door (an impossibility, as there was no such seat there, but he didn't question the good vantage point), watched the introductions proceed. It was strange, witnessing his Other Self interact with those he knew from such different circumstances. There was no contempt, or animosity, or anything of the sort between Other Him and the Harry Potter before him. And while at first they didn't seem to be hitting it off as much as Ronald and Harry were, it was quickly rectified as Harry commented on his chosen muggle clothes, and then went into a brief (as Ron cut it short) conversation about football. Soon lunch rolled around and Harry ordered just about everything, and Other Draco got two pumpkin juices to go with the corned beef sandwiches Ronald got out. Eventually, however, the sandwiches were forgotten as all ate from Harry's stash.

Seeing the food reminded Draco that he hadn't eaten since before coming into Professor Uchiha's study, hours previous, and he wasn't hungry. Doing a quick calculation, it had been about six, seven hours since then, but this wasn't real time—or was it? "Hey," he turned and nudged the teacher slightly, "Professor Itachi, how does this... thing work?" He asked, suddenly curious.

Roused from his apparent nap, the teacher blinked at his surroundings for a second, before turning to the pureblood. "Well," He yawned, "this is the scenario of a life path of yours. Everything revolves around Other You; time, action, scenery... but we, as mere watchers to this, aren't affected by things, not even time. You probably haven't noticed this, but anything outside of your Other Self's immediate area isn't really there. First it blurs, and then it's just a smear of color, and then nothing at all."

"What about this morning, we were in... my... room? Draco wasn't in there, yet everything was fine. And then when he went to take his owl to the car, we didn't follow until he took his trunk. So, logically, we should have either been forced to follow within his immediate area, or been left in darkness."

"Astute of you," The ninja smiled a small, true smile, and the Slytherin felt a small tingle of pride. "But that is explained by the fact that Other Draco knew the house, his room, so well that he knew what they looked like, and how they were laid out in perfect detail, even if he wasn't there directly. Take, for instance, this train. Other Draco knows this isn't the only compartment, and he knows that there is a finite amount of similar ones along each carriage. However, if we were to leave the room, and go into one of those compartments, we would find them completely empty, and depending if the room is before or after this one, varying levels of darkness out the windows. There would also be no one down the halls. However, also note when Fred and George came into the cabin. Your Other Self realized they had to go somewhere after leaving here, so if we had followed them, they would have visibly gone to an unknown part of the train before disappearing, probably after meeting up with Mr. Lee Jordan.

"Another thought comes into play that what we see is directly affected by how your Other Self imagines it. If he believed that the Slytherin common room, for example, was located in the Astronomy tower, then by all physical means and mental reckoning, it would be in the Astronomy tower unless he specifically went there. The only thing not really affected is the area he is in, because the direct Candle reading is not affected by perceived notions. That is why I was able to understand conversations and situations around you when you were a newborn, and could not possibly comprehend what was going on."

"Ah, I see." He nodded at the explanation, and let the teacher go back into his sleep as Draco returned to the group before him, who were now talking about Chocolate Frog Cards.

The group ate, joked, denied seeing a frog to Neville Longbottom, before Hermione Granger came to sit in the only other seat, next to Harry, when Ronald was about to do some magic.

"Thanks for asking to join us," Other Draco told her dryly. The muggle-born shot him an irritated look, but turned back to the Ginger haired boy.

"Well, are you going to do it, then?"

Ronald cleared his throat, before waving his wand and beginning to chant, "_Sunshine, daisies_—"

"Oh, you are not going to try that one George told us, are you?" Other Draco cut in with a roll of his eyes, "You should know better then to trust them, Ron."

Ron blushed heavily, muttering something under his breath as he lowered his wand.

"Well," The only girl in the room turned to look at Other Draco, her eyebrows raised on her forehead. "If _you_ know so much about magic, let's see_ you_ do it."

Other Draco's face reddened, just a little, and he puffed up slightly, "Fine, I will!" And he hurriedly got out his own wand, saying a quick "_Coellzo!_" towards the sleeping rodent... not realizing he was holding his wand backwards.

"ARGH, MY _AZZURRI_ UNIFORM!"

Draco, from his hidden view point, winced and covered his face in shame from his Other Self's naive mistake. He didn't see what happened next, but there was the sound of minor havoc for a good minute or so before it calmed and he braved looking again.

Hermione Granger, holding her wand, was _laughing_—in fact, everyone was, except for Neville Longbottom (which didn't count for much, as the boy was telling the flamingly blushing Other Draco how he did that to himself not too long ago, only he changed his skin tone) as Other Draco sat in his once-again light blue uniform, arms crossed huffily as he stared out the window. "I'm ever so glad I learned our entire course books by heart now, you know, and practiced a few simple spells before this, so there's not much damage after this incident," She said quickly after calming down, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Draco Weasley, my brother." Ron shoved good naturedly Other Draco, who returned it with a bit too much force to be considered strictly friendly. Ron only laughed again, use to his sullenness.

"Harry Potter."

That only set Hermione off, and she quickly switched from smirking over at Other Draco, to going on a fast monologue about which books Harry was in. Draco was surprised at how much she read in the time she probably received her notification letter and now, and that she didn't faint from not breathing during her rant. She excused herself while telling them to change, taking Longbottom with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," Ron tucked away his wand, frowning.

"Whatever house _she's_ in, I hope _I'm_ not in it." Other Draco agreed, putting away his own wand. Draco frowned at his other self's sentence, not quite sure why he said it that way.

"What house are your brothers in, Draco, Ron?"

"Gryffindor." Ron said simply, but Other Draco rolled his eyes and elaborated.

"The Weasleys' always end up in Gryffindor, but the Malfoys were always Slytherin." Other Draco shrugged, then frowned, and Draco suddenly got a bad feeling in his stomach. "I'm not sure which I'll go into, but I hope not Slimy Slytherin, ick!"

The rest of the conversation drowned out to the Malfoy hidden away in the other plane, or wherever he was. He had always wanted to go into Slytherin, _always_. Since before he... knew... of... Hogwarts. Even in his mind, he finished lamely. He secluded into his thoughts, thinking upon his house, his self, while the conversation around him went on unknowing of him.

"Itachi..."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" The smooth voice, floating into existence right next to him, nearly caused Draco to fall out of his seat in shock. He had no idea he had said the name aloud and furthermore was baffled by how the teacher could hear him over... the... Hey, when did the world go on mute?

"Oh, um," He might as well ask what was on his mind, anyway. Professor Uchiha always seemed to know how to deal with things. "Professor, I have... I have a question."

The Asian merely yawned once more and nodded drowsily, silently letting Draco know he would answer—if indeed, he could.

"Which... Which house would you be in? I-I mean, er," He flushed slightly, adverting his gaze to where his Other Self was finishing putting on his robes. "Choose to go in. I remember you were put into Gryffindor, but that was just by... um... Uh..."

"Circumstance?"

"Yeah, that." He flushed slightly at forgetting such a common word.

"Hm," Professor Uchiha moved his gaze up at the ceiling as he fingered his lower lip absently. He hummed again, thinking it over, and Draco waited patiently for an answer. "To go with house theory... With Gryffindor, I would be among people who were willing to take a chance at nearly everything, and not back down at the face of danger, which appeals to my adventurous nature. With Slytherin, I would be among people who I could trust with even the deepest of secrets. With Ravenclaw, I would learn far more then I could elsewhere, and always be among people of my same intellect, and desire for knowledge. With Hufflepuff, I would be able to relax, and nothing would be expected of me—I'd be able to do things at my own pace, by my own will, and those ideal appeals to me." He dropped his hand and shook his head slightly, before turning back to look back at Draco. "However, I am of the belief that house classification does not matter. You can have a coward in Gryffindor, a snitch in Slytherin, a dunce in Ravenclaw, and an overstressed person in Hufflepuff. So, really, to answer your question, I would not 'choose' to go in any." He shifted in his seat, crossed his arms, dropped his head, and closed his eyes, ready to head back into his nap. "I would simply be placed in one, and would make the best of it."

Draco remained silent, even as the world regained its noise, lost in his own thoughts. He didn't speak hours later when they shuffled off the train (even as Ron dropped the cage containing the Eagle owl, causing a very loud ensuing ruckus where the owls screeched and the boys tried to rein in control with yells and cries of their own), into the pouring rain, even as he wasn't touched by the heavy droplets. Silently, he followed as the first years were lead through the woods, into boats for the river ride, which seemed to take a whole hour longer then he remembered from his own trip. He sat in the very back of his Other Self's chosen vessel, on seats that did not exist, watching as he and his boat mates—Harry and Ron up front, with Hermione next to Other him—stared in complete awe of the magic castle as it seemingly floated in the blackness of the rainy night.

Soon enough, however, they docked in the covered cave under the castle and the students began to scramble off. Draco had actually made it quite a few steps before he realized that Professor Uchiha hadn't followed. He turned around and saw the other boy seemingly asleep, still sitting in his seat in the small boat, the land around them beginning to darken ominously. A prickle of emotion he didn't like to acknowledge turned in his chest as he hurried back. "Professor?" he asked, uncertain. He couldn't tell in this lighting, but Itachi seemed to be a shade or two paler then he remembered him being. He reached out and touched his shoulder, almost hesitantly.

Professor Uchiha jerked back into wakefulness, startling the impossible blond. A hand clamped down firmly on Draco's wrist, and the teacher half stood in his seat before he realized what was going on around him. "Oh." He let go of Malfoy's wrist as he glanced around, dropping back into his seat before absently rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, "I'm sorry, when did we stop?"

"Just a bit ago." Draco said, massaging his wrist slightly, but relieved the teacher was awake. He didn't know why, but he was pretty sure if Itachi hadn't awoken, it would not be a good thing. "The Other me's already made it into the castle, though."

Smoothly arising, Professor Uchiha stepped clear of the small boat. "Let us be off then, and get out of this boat." He, as if having never fallen asleep at all, calmly switched from the now completely black scene much like he had in the... 'morning', and soon they stood with the dripping first years as they awaited to be sorted. Draco kept making glances at the ninja through the Hogwarts Welcoming song, noting how tired and drawn the teacher appeared. Perhaps it was just because he awoke from the boat? He dearly hoped it was, and tried not to think about just _how much_ the teacher had been sleeping through the entire trip.

Regardless, as soon as the sorting hat made its appearance, all of Draco's attentions were focused on it. That hat sung its song, and the sorting began. Other Draco looked decidedly more and more nervous as the Ms approached. He was so nervous, that when 'Malfoy, Draco' _was_ called, he had to be nudged out of the line by Ron.

The fifteen-year-old Draco swallowed in time with the eleven year old, watching his miniature self approach the ancient hat, with seemingly infinite steps. An unnatural deathly silence filled the room as he sat on the stool, and slipped the hat over his head.

The world went black, except for that small boy on the three legged chair. Malfoy was suddenly much closer then before, but still outside of reaching distance, without realizing how that had happened. His mind was curiously blank, as he awaited the outcome of the sorting. Unlike the first time, it did not decide straight off where to put him.

"Interesting, interesting," a small voice spoke up through the deathly silence, a voice Malfoy barely remembered. He was held too much in a state of anticipation to wonder why he also heard the ancient hat. "Difficult—though, more confusing then such... Very intelligent, cunning, daring, and strong willed; many versatile qualities, yet distinct ones. You're distinguished, yet you don't necessarily fit..."

_Why?_ A voice, his own voice, replied to the hat.

"'Why?' Well, my dear boy, why do any of us act in any way? Heritage plays a role, but also your family does as well." Draco blinked. How did the hat know about his... family, in this life, instead of just his regular one? "Quite unlike your predecessors, you were not made into the ideal Slytherin Student from birth. But, unlike your family, you do indeed have your parent's blood. But this is not the time to discuss life, we must decide upon a house for your education career. Such will effect the rest of your life, so let us not dally.

"Hmm, I... believe..." The hat said, slowly, almost reluctantly, "That the house which would fit best would have to be..."

_Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin!_ Other Draco suddenly cut in, before anything would be told to the Great Hall.

The small voice chuckled, "Not Slytherin? Why ever not? You could make some strong friends in there."

_Because... because I don't want to go! Please don't make me go there! I don't want to be like my parents! I want... I want to be my own person!_

"Well then, if you feel that way, I won't. Not that I necessarily was to begin with." The hat chuckled again, and Other Draco squirmed a bit on his chair, embarrassed. "So, then the best house... _your_ house... must be..." Draco held his breath in time with his Other Self, his heart skipping a beat...

"_Hufflepuff_."

**XXXXX**

Yes, I _**TOTALLY**_ put Draco in Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff is underrated in my opinion. I'd go to Ravenclaw, of course, but I'd date a Puff.

Anyway, hoped you enjoyed this latest, long chapter. Going underway again, to sail the seven seas.


	13. Chapter 13: The Almost and the Real Past

Itachi stared out the window, lost in thought. He thought about many things; his life, Hogwarts, his Team Six, his ANBU team, and his home. He pondered again on what was going to happen.

The usually aw inspiring scenery was disregarded, his black eyes seeing nothing as they looked out. But a slight, nearly silent yawn drew Itachi's attention, and his sight fell onto the sleeping Sasuke. Idly, he brushed his fingers through the soft hair, petting in a loving, careful way, before he turned back to staring out the window. His Kneazle was in his lap, purring contently as she dozed, oblivious to the world around her.

The Elite Ninja sighed. Regardless of what he had said previously, what was he going to do now? Now that everything was so... different? He had such organization, and stability before. Everything was going as he, as _they_ planned it. Then... it was all different. He brooded over on what would happen to him, how life would play out from there, caring little about anything around him at present, yet mindful of all.

He blinked as the train begun its slowdown, the hissing and screeching of the breaks sounding throughout the compartment. Once again focusing on peering outside the holes in his mask, he looked at comfortingly familiar surroundings.

"Sasuke," he spoke softly, nudging his dozing brother.

"Hm," He groaned, shifting on the row of seats they had claimed for themselves. His head rested against his brother's thigh, his legs curled up to his chest as he nestled into the small space provided for the train riders. But, instead of heeding his brother, he just snuggled further into the cushioned seats.

"Sasuke, get up." Itachi nudged again, taking note that the other passengers were beginning to go down onto the lower level.

"Ger_oph_meh."

"Do I have to get the water again?"

"I'm up, I'm up!" Sasuke sat up abruptly, blinking heavily to his surroundings.

"Good, now let's get our things, and get off."

"Fine, fine, fi-_yawn_-ne..." Shaking his head to rid himself of his sleepiness, the small boy stood and began to drag his bag from under their seats.

Itachi, mean while, stood and scooped Kneazle-Sasuke up into his arms, so he could retrieve the scroll he had hidden away in his back beltbag. He opened it with practiced ease, letting it unroll onto the table top. A quick hand seal or two, and a cat carrying case appeared.

Kneazle-Sasuke looked at the cage, then at Itachi, then at the cage, then back to Itachi. A low, perturbed meow sounded. Itachi was surprised at how low it was in fact, for such a small young feline. But, regardless, he managed to get the Kneazle into the cage with only five or so scratches and bites. Ok, twenty-seven, but most were hidden by his gloves.

He slung his simple, black, ninja bag over a shoulder, and carefully tucked the cage containing the sulking Kneazle under the other arm.

"Ready, Sasuke?"

"Yep, Older brother."

"Remember, not a word." Itachi pressed a finger to his cold, mask lips, and Sasuke nodded. As it had been explained to him the first time, he was not allowed to speak a single detail of where Hogwarts was located. Even as it was, he had been blindfolded and deafened thirty minutes before, during, and thirty minutes after the crossover, just incase he was interrogated for information before he had been trained to resist such techniques.

Itachi grabbed his little brother's hand, and lead them down the stairway and out of the train on the opposite side they had been sitting on. And came onto a surprising sight.

His ANBU team stood at attention, in full attire, obviously waiting for him. That in itself wasn't surprising; it was common place for an ANBU's team to escort him or her back to Konoha after being out on a solo mission. And it wasn't surprising, either, to see Kakashi standing with them, grinning cheekily through his blue mask. The other few passengers that had gotten off at their stop had already left the loading platform, so they were alone as the train started to slide away.

What was surprising, however, was the "Welcome Home, Itachi!" poster (with balloons and Ribbons) that was erected next to them.

They couldn't see his face expression through his mask, but he knew they saw how his body tensed and stilled, even as Sasuke started to complain about why he didn't get included on the poster. As Kakashi distracted the boy with a welcoming cupcake he had made _just for him_, Itachi walked forward to examine the poster closer.

His team didn't utter a single word, and didn't twitch a single muscle as they waited for his reaction. Despite what Kakashi had told them of their Captain's vast improvements throughout his mission, they held a doubt in their minds, and so they didn't know how he'd take the possibly over-familiar greeting they had gotten for him.

Itachi looked up at the professionally done poster, and carefully read the short welcoming greetings written on it by his team. The balloons and ribbons were, amazingly enough, his favorite colors, though he wasn't quite sure where they learned them from.

He turned back to his team, seeing how they were still watching him anxiously. Slowly, he slid his mask to the side, finally revealing his small, true smile. "Thank you," He said sincerely. He remembered always acting distant, so very distant, to his ANBU team when they were together, and he had not expected them to receive him back so honestly. He truly felt welcomed.

"_Oh_, Itachi-kun!" Dragon was the first to break ranks, quickly darting forward and scooping him up in a nearly bone crushing hug, surprising everyone in the immediate vicinity. "We all missed you, Itachi-kun! We were worried, and we're so glad you're ok!" The double meaning was evident to all, but not commented on. What also wasn't spoken was of how Itachi allowed her to fuss over him, when before he was always frosty to even the slightest touch.

Cat came up quickly after Shiina, ruffling Itachi's hair. "Hey, hey, look how you've grown, Itachi! You're, what, almost to my chin now?" Yuu made exaggerated measuring movements from Itachi's head to his own face, smirking widely at the (playfully annoyed) glare he was receiving.

"We are pleased to have our talented captain back, Itachi," Hawk spoke as he approached, his cool, deep voice a brook in the chaotic fluttering of the other team members, "Our team had been shuffled between different ANBU groups, and had temporary members added and removed to our own, stunting our growth, but over all we have improved our team work within the general team. I dare say, however, we hope we never repeat such an occurrence of your extended absence again." Though Hiaji's words were all business, the warm greeting was obvious behind his words.

"Thank you, Shiina, Yuu, Hiaji. It is good to be back," Itachi slipped from his female teammate's clutches, walking towards the cart he knew was waiting for them. "Let us be on our way to Konoha. Though it is early yet, it will be dark by the time we get there if we dally." He turned to look behind him, around his obediently following team. "Kakashi! Sasuke! _Let's go!_"

"_Oh, we're leaving already?_" Kakashi answered back in the foreign language. Turning, he picked up Sasuke's bag, which had been dropped in the child's enthusiasm for the cupcake, and trailed after the group.

"_Ready!_" Sasuke, having already caught up with his brother, laughed at the looks he was receiving from the ANBU team, who had no idea what they were saying. True, the little boy himself had a maybe hundred word vocabulary, hardly enough to join in even the simplest of conversations, but they didn't need to know that. And he liked feeling exclusionist with the language.

Helping his brother up and onto the wooden bench meant for the driver, Itachi smiled, realizing what his brother was doing, "_I'm going to have to teach you this language someday._" He guessed that liking to make people squirm ran in the Uchiha line, or at least with the sharingan, as Kakashi liked it as well.

"_Smashing!_" He chirped obliviously.

"Scoot over, Sasuke-chan. I'm driving this thing," Kakashi deposited the bag in the bed of the cart before hopping up and beginning the preparations needed to leave.

"What were you two saying?" Yuu nosily asked as he jumped into the small wooden box of the cart, across from his captain.

Itachi, having just settled down himself with Kneazle-Sasuke in his lap, shrugged carelessly, "Oh, this and that. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." Yuu scowled, though there was a definite pout mixed in.

"How strange. Tell me, did at least some of the savages speak our language?" Hiaji settled himself kitty-corner from his leader, a curious glint to his eye. He had, like everyone else, gone without his mask, as they were already well within Fire Country, and not in a hostile situation.

Itachi blinked, having not expected the Hyuuga—of all his team—to be the one already set against the foreign land before knowing anything about it. Then again, the Hyuuga Clan prided themselves as 'The Best of the Best Village' and regarded every other Hidden village with disdain. They regarded merchant villages even lower, and so it'd be natural for them to think a country that was so very different from their own would be uncivilized, no matter that they had more advanced technology then Konoha.

"I wouldn't know, I didn't meet any 'savage.'" Hawk had the decency to look at least somewhat embarrassed at his reply.

"So how _was_ it like, Itachi-kun?" Dragon spoke up, in her spot next to him. "Was it really different to our Village?"

"Hm," Itachi let his head lean back, as he tried to determine what could be told to them, and what had to remain a secret. Well, considering that he could tell nearly all he wanted to the Hogwarts Residents, he could do the same to his ANBU team. However, considering that they were very elite ninja, he would have to censor it somewhat, to keep the transition point unknown. "Yes, it was very different," He began, "The language, the food, the people. The writing utensils, the eating utensils, the tools of trade. The customs, the curtsies, and the insults. All the small things you would take for granted, things you don't normally notice suddenly were notably different, alien. It was very similar to being dropped off on a completely new world, and being expected to do the tedious task of babysitting a civilian who had a knack for getting into small, petty trouble."

His team all smirked at him, for both the fact that it probably was one of the worst missions possible and he had been stuck with it for nine months and the fact that he could, and would, do it without a pause.

"One of the students did, indeed, know '_Japanese_'—as they called it—when I arrived, and another learned from me directly." He nodded towards Hiaji, "But as a whole, I spoke only their language during every day tasks. The only real exception was when I was speaking to my employer, who naturally knew our language."

They asked a few more questions then, like the daily tasks he had to do, what the classes were like and what Kneazle-Sasuke was. At their insistence, Itachi preformed a simple transfiguration on a kunai, turning it into a flower to their immense curiosity. He let them each hold his wand, and give a few experimental flicks of it, but none of them were able to conjure even the slightest of sparks. Itachi was secretly glad they were not able to, as it meant his wand was assumingly safe from being used by someone else—inferring that the person realized it's potential.

Eventually they lapsed into comfortable silence, the swaying and creaking of the cart mixing with the soothing sound of the forest around them. Itachi lavished in the heat that crept up around his back and shoulders, letting it soak into his flesh. It was just another indicator of the fact he was finally home, once again. Not just in Konoha, but in his own plane of existence, the plane of ninja and jutsu and summons and bijuu and wars and missions and violent peace. He was back to where he had been born and raised to be. He also secretly reveled in the familiar feeling of the chakra around him, very much including his teams'. As he sat there, he suddenly realized just how much he had missed them. Not only for their devotion they gave him as their leader, and the endless entertainment their mannerism gave him, but for the fact of who they were. They weren't his charges, people he had to constantly keep an eye out for, making sure they did nothing abnormally stupid, which had always kept a somewhat barrier between him and Team Six; a babysitter position instead of being simply friends. Sure, he liked the English students, and wouldn't deny that he would miss them, but he still had been _hired_ to keep them out of trouble, which set them, and kept them, in a certain role in his mind's eye.

His team, however, were his friends because they were. Regardless to the age differences, the personality differences, the social status differences—they were his friends. He just never realized it, until now; until he had been _able_ to have friends. Now, comparing his 'friendship' of both Kakashi and Suishi from before he left, to the current friendships he enjoyed, he saw how vast the differences are, and just how lacking the companionships were in the past. And so he smiled ever so faintly, sitting comfortably in the back of the wooden bed of the cart, feeling and loving the connections he held to all who were in proximity.

Eventually, however, the travel was starting to catch up to him, and the comforting feeling he was in current possession of wasn't helping much. So he settled down in his spot, and loosely set his hands around the cat carrier sitting in his lap. He let his head dip ever so slightly as he dozed off to the rocking of the cart, and the familiar presence of the heat and those he considered being closest to.

When he awoke, hours later, he was extremely surprised to find himself curled up on his side, his head on Dragon's lap. She was petting his hair softly, in a very comforting manner. Hawk's eyes, sparking kindly in his warm expression, held no mocking or insulting air as he watched his leader sleep in a highly vulnerable and embarrassing manner. Cat, even though he smirked over, and held a hint of jealously to the position the thirteen—fourteen, in a few days time—was in, did not hold it against the captain to have been sleeping in the lap of and being petted by the female of the group.

Despite the non-accusing looks he had been given, Itachi sat up immediately—not hurriedly, of course; Uchiha never hurried—when he fully comprehended the situation. He took a brief moment to recall how that had happened, as he surely should have awoken to the slightest difference in his position, let alone falling and or being pulled into a _lap_ for Merlin's sake, but he honestly didn't remember it in the slightest bit. One moment he settled down for a doze, the next he was being mothered over. He shot a suspicious glare to male half of his team, but they just smiled all too innocently at him. He heard Kakashi snicker distinctly behind him. Almost reluctantly, he turned to Shiina.

"You were asleep, and we hit a large bump. You tipped over, and I didn't want to wake you, so I just got you comfortable," Dragon said simply, shrugging. "You must have been very tired, to have slept through that. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Itachi gave a bland stare before he sighed, ignoring the question. Shiina was very blunt (almost to a point of naivety) about everything, including physical contact. If she liked you, she'd have no qualms about practically laying on you whenever the situation allowed it, or over someone touching her in a like manner. Similarly, she abhorred any type of contact with someone she disliked—as proven to whenever Cat touched her; in the past, at least. Shiina was extremely possessive of those she cared about, and touching was a physical manifestation of her claim of affection. She touched those she liked, whether _they_ liked it or not (it had been a major annoyance to him in the past, before the Hogwarts mission). So it was only natural, for her, to put her leader's head in her lap and stroke it like one would a lover while he was asleep and helpless to stop her, and she saw nothing wrong or intimate about it.

The ANBU shook his head and tossed away the subject. There wasn't anything he could do about it now, and he needed to address the reason he awoke in the first place—strange chakra approaching in the distance. His mask was slipped on easily, and he noted his team doing the same in an inconspicuous manner.

His eyes flicked to where his bag and Kneazle-Sasuke sat, placed carefully under the slight overhang of the drivers seat. Red eyes then traveled to look over his brother, dozing against the scarecrow ninja. Kakashi himself was loosely swaying with the rhythm of the cart, his circular straw hat—that had _come with the cart_, so why _wouldn't_ he wear it?—low to block out the sun, but the trained eye showed he was just as aware of the presence as Itachi. Looking back to his team showed they were just as carefully wired, not showing that they at all sensed the somewhat hidden energy draw nearer, almost as if those masks had been in place all along.

In a handful more minutes, the time it took for the two parties—for there was a group of four approaching, with carefully muffled, but not suppressed, signatures—to come together, Itachi was pretty certain of who they were. He glanced pointedly at the Hyuuga of the group, who nodded ever so slightly towards him. The man's bloodlimit confirmed what Itachi sensed, but that didn't mean they relaxed.

"Halt!" Came the call, as a black robed figure appeared in the middle of the well beaten dirt road. Kakashi reined the slightly spooked horses to a stop as the three other figures appeared surrounding the cart and its passengers.

"Who calls for it?" He asked lazily, leaning on his knee, the leather straps hanging from one hand.

"That is unnecessary for you to know. Who is in charge?"

Itachi stood slowly, calmly, knowing every strange eye was then focused on him. He was careful to keep his hands slightly extended from his body, in plain sight and away from each other. "I am, but I must insist that common decency be held—tell me first of yourself." He spoke easily, only slightly annoyed at the inconvenience of the Konoha patrol. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with them, in his tenure of leading teams, but he didn't recognize the leader as current. Then again, it had been a while since he last saw a strange ANBU.

"Who do you think you are, a mere child claiming to be in charge?" The lead figure—probably in his late twenties—sneered, causing Itachi to blink compulsively behind his mask, surprised at the rudeness.

"You must be new," He said simply, with only a slight narrowing of his eyes at the insult. The eldest Uchiha knew his mask was extremely well known when he had left Konoha those nine months ago, especially among the captains, and anyone who had known his mask would not have questioned his claim to authority. He eyed the figure more closely, noting the wolverine face mask—it was blue, and definitely was not familiar. Only one mask in each team was kept through the rotations, the zodiac animals, while the rest were changed when needed; he did not recall wolverine being in the roster when he left.

Apparently, thankfully, there was one member of the strange ANBU team, the one with the Snake mask, who did recognize the Sharingan user, as he—she—suddenly abandoned their position to dart to the leader, whispering furiously in his ear. No one could see his face, but they could just imagine the horrified realization spreading across his features.

"F-Forgive me, Weasel-sama," The leader bowed deeply, his voice markedly different, as his subordinate returned to his—her—post; policy and all. "I did not recognize your mask. I am indeed new to the corps, having joined not but five months ago."

Itachi straightened his shoulders, not bothering to reply.

The figure straightened, fidgeting slightly before assuming the parade rest pose; feet lightly spread, arms held sharply behind his back. It was a position not normally held but for a meeting with the Hokage himself or an employer, and showed his now nerves more then if he just continued to fidget. "I am Wolverine, of Team Lambda. My team and I are the Konoha Patrol force, here to inquire about your party as per regulations regarding groups of more then two."

"I am Weasel, of Team Epsilon," He hissed the word, enjoying the slight flinch it caused, "I and Uchiha Sasuke are returning from an extended mission. My team, as well as Hatake Kakashi, is my escort." Kakashi tilted back the straw hat, showing his telltale mask and slanted headband for the first time as he was mentioned.

"Have you the seal?" Wolverine asked hesitantly, upon hearing the clipped, cool tone of his better. He now knew how badly he had messed up, insulting the Captain of the fifth ANBU team in Konoha, a good five places above his own position. He was obviously regretting being so calloused to the youngest ANBU captain in history, as well as the now Head of the Uchiha clan. Not to mention the infamous Copy-Cat nin.

Wordlessly, Itachi turned to the new ANBU at his right, who handed him a royal blue scroll without comment. Then he reached into his backpack and withdrew the golden scroll, the twin to the blue, and held them before him. With a deft flick, both were allowed to roll open, showing the half completed seal on each. A poof, and soon a large white bird shrilled its surprise as it came into the strange location, before turning and flying off towards the Konoha Aviaries. Had Itachi opened only one scroll, or had the incorrect scrolls, he would have found himself electrocuted violently.

"Very well," Wolverine said in a small voice, cowed even more when Itachi's identity had been proven. "W-would you care for us to escort you back to the gates?"

"No." Itachi said coldly, more so then he would have been under similar circumstances. This one needed to learn his place in the ANBU and Konoha society. Even if he had not insulted the captain, he had been far too full of his own self worth to start off with. ANBU were the Elite of the Elite of Konoha, and had to maintain appearances in every faucet of life; including and not limited to polite interactions with those they came into contact with. "Return to your patrol, and mind yourself in the future."

"Understood," Not fighting the order at all, though it was obvious to both parties that it was made only to reinforce Itachi's command over him, Wolverine bowed in time with his teammates before they all disappeared in a blink of an eye.

With a click of his tongue and a flick of the leads, Kakashi spurred the horses back into motion once again. Itachi sat back down into his spot, back to the wood, still irritated at the rudeness.

"Don't worry, Itachi," Yuu said, sliding his mask aside to give a cheeky grin. "Soon enough they'll all be kissing your kunai again, like before you left."

"I don't want to be revered as the next Yondaime," Itachi said, almost sullen, but he was ANBU, and they certainly never expressed such a pointless emotion, "I just want to be respected as any decent ninja should be." His team agreed to his opinion, and they fell into a brief silence.

"Do you want to lie down and take another nap before we reach Konoha?" Dragon suddenly spoke up, completely innocently, "You seem a little crabby still."

Itachi had the wisdom that it was for his best interest to remain silent against the onslaught of teasing snickers from the males present, his lips pursing. If he made a comment back, even the most well thought out one, he would be placed as the moody teenager. But still, in the half hour that remained before they reached Konoha, he calculated down to the minute how he'd best get back at them.

He learned some very interesting things from the Weasley Twins, given all the times they attempted to prank him. And he would use his knowledge well.

Once the large Konoha gates loomed before the band, the ANBU team dismounted and went to the left side of the entrance while Kakashi, the recently awoken Sasuke, and the cart went to the right side of the entrance. There they made the typical check in, and were granted access to the hidden city without much hassle.

The cart was deposited back to the stables from where it was rented—"No, Kakashi. Keeping the hat would be stealing."—the fees prepaid by the Hokage, and the party returned to their trek on foot. Sasuke was both elated at returning home, and nervous, clutching the cat carrier he had insisted upon carrying. Konoha was where he had been born and raised, where he was most familiar. However, the last time he had left the village and had returned, his family had come to greet him and take him back to the Uchiha estates. This time, they were on their own, and their family was long buried.

But, Sasuke thought as he looked towards his perfectly calm, _smiling_ sibling, it was almost as good to be with his happy, protective, loving brother once more in their home. Only death would separate them now, he knew.

He never knew how ominous those thoughts were, until it was too late.

**XXXXX**

Malfoy gasped as the hat hissed out the name, blinking as he saw nothing but black. Soon his vision cleared enough to show that it wasn't really his eyes, but that the room itself was nearly pitch black, not to mention _cold_. He couldn't see it to be sure, but he would have sworn he'd see his own breath in the air.

He shivered and grasped his arms, hugging himself to conserve warmth. He noted the fireplace was burning just embers now, and so with a wave or two of his wand, it was re-igniting into a light inducing, and warmth giving fire.

However, it was once he could see again, that he noticed something was wrong.

Itachi was laying on the table, in much the same position as when they went into the scenario. The only difference was that his head was plopped down onto his arm, and he looked sickly, even in the scant flickering light of the hearth.

"Oh, _Merlin!_ Professor Itachi!" Draco scrambled up and around, kneeling at the side of the seemingly comatose boy. "Wake up, wake up!" He took his shoulder and roughly shook it, making the body slop across the table lazily.

However, it blissfully seemed to work, as the second shake enticed a small groan from the Asian, and the subsequent small slaps to the face finished the job.

"I-I'm awake, I'm awake..." He weakly brushed away Draco's hands as he laboriously pulled himself upright again. Draco was afraid to make single noise as he listened to the harsh breathing as Itachi gathered his strength, hunching heavily over the table.

"On my desk..." The teacher quietly spoke, and the blond listened intently, "there should be a goblet... Bring it to me..."

Draco immediately set to the task, spying the large copper cup almost instantly. With as much care as he could, he hastily brought it over, mindful to not spill a drop. Itachi took it with almost trembling hands, taking a deep draft. With large breaths between each gulp, the liquid was consumed with almost practiced efficiency.

"What was that, Professor?"

Itachi breathed a deep, easy sigh and set down the empty cup, eyes closed in a relaxed manner, "A type of energy potion. I had assumed showing you the other life path would be draining, but I had no idea that it would cause so _much_ drain. I should be fine by morning after a good night's rest, regardless."

"Are you sure you're fine?"

Black eyes slid open and looked at the Slytherin before them, and it was only then, in the flickering firelight, that Draco realized Itachi actually _did_ have irises, hidden within the inky color. "Yes, I'm fine. But, we both should be getting to bed, as it is rather late."

Nodding, Draco helped Itachi up when he appeared to be struggling to stand up. When Itachi didn't make a move to get out of his grip once vertical, Draco took the hint and continued to assist him out of the room, and down the steps.

They were walking down the silent, empty halls, well away from the Divination classroom, when Malfoy finally broke the silence with a question. Itachi was getting stronger with each step, and now that Draco allowed himself to accept the fact that he wouldn't be collapsing on him, he let himself go back to the questions which had plagued him once he'd been released of the Other Life.

"Professor... Why did I go in to... to _Hufflepuff_? I could understand somewhat the other houses—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw... but _Hufflepuff_?"

Itachi smiled slightly, just the barest hint at the corners of his mouth, and it didn't seem so emotionless to Draco any more. "I had assumed it was apparent. But, the reason is because you didn't want to be like your parents—_either_ of them. You didn't want to be pressured to be who you weren't. You wanted a place that would allow you to do as you wished, who accepted you as you—not as a Malfoy, not as a Weasley. You certainly were smart enough to go into Ravenclaw, but if you had, you would have been _expected_ to do well. As a child of barely eleven, you didn't want to be _expected_ to do _anything_—thus, Hufflepuff. You did quite well in that house, actually."

"What happened? Can you give me a summary, or something?"

"I don't see why not," Itachi nodded his thanks and was let to walk on his own. After the first few wobbly steps, he smoothed out his walk, and was able to continue on without fear of falling over. However, he still kept a hand to the wall, fingertips skimming the stone surface, as a safety measure. "You stayed friends with Harry and on good terms with Ronald, so you accompanied them during breaks and whenever your two houses had classes together. Hermione, of course, became your friend when she became Harry's and Ronald's. You two actually got along quite well after a while, once you discovered each other's innate intelligence. In your second year, you joined the Quidditch team as a Chaser..."

"A Chaser? Why a Chaser?"

"Because it was the closest to something from Football as you could get, and were good at. Now, let's see... In your third year, you managed to break into the Shrieking Shack on a dare from the Weasley Twins, wherein you discovered a badly ravished Mr. Sirius Black. He convinced you of his innocence—as you had acquired the belief that reputation sometimes is undeserved, based on the reputation you had as a Malfoy, and then as a Weasley—and you helped him in his plans. However, instead of turning in Peter to him, as he had instructed, you instead brought the rat to Professor Dumbledore. A similar event happened as in this world, our world, and Mr. Black went free, but that time he became your DADA teacher the following year probably due to his timing more then anything. During your fourth year you became much closer with Hermione, becoming her confidant with her relationship with someone named Mr. Viktor Krum while you got with a Ravenclaw girl named... Ms. Elizabeth Smith, I believe her name was, a rather shy and quite half blood. She actually appeared in a few of your life paths; sometimes the relationship worked and sometimes it didn't. Regardless, in that life path it didn't work, and you broke it off at the end of the year to get with Ms. Hermione after confessing your—"

"I DID _WHAT_?" Draco rudely interrupted, halting in place abruptly as he stood stock-still. "I—I got with—with **_GRANGER_**?" His nearly traumatized shriek echoed off the stone walls, and somewhere in his mind he was thankful they were in a section of classrooms, and not somewhere were others could hear him.

The teacher blinked at him mildly, almost as if in surprise at his reaction. "In that life, yes. It happened in another three lives as well, actually. You two make a good couple, believe it or not, as long as you don't have your head stuck up your arse and hers isn't stuffed in the middle of a book." Itachi yawned widely, walking down the hall again, and Draco soon caught up, tearing himself out of his stunned rut.

"W-What happened in those other lives? Could you tell me, please?"

"Well, one was where she was in Slytherin with you—the first muggle born to have managed it in over two hundred years. You took to picking on her, to teasing, to flirting. Now, I only saw until your sixteenth year, but you ran away from home after your parents found out that she wasn't a pureblood. I believe you were living in Professor Snape's home in secret, as he was very, _very_ understanding and helpful to your relationship for some reason. The other life she was a Ravenclaw, you were a Slytherin, and you had a secret affair that started at the beginning of your fifth year over a forced study partnership, and was maturing into a real relationship by your sixteenth; I was unable to discover what became of it after that. The last life you two were in Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively, but you were a rebel and got with her early on just to spite your parents, though you believed you had fallen in love with her after a year." Itachi paused, and his eyes flinched ever so slightly, so little that if Draco hadn't been intently staring, he would have missed it, "She was tortured and then killed by your father in your fifth year while your mother restrained you, during a Hogsmead visit when the two of you were on a date. You turned in your parents to Azkaban, and had left school; I was unable to witness further as your sixteenth happened just short of a week after."

"Oh." They walked in silence for a few paces, and Draco digested the information. He was highly curious about those lives, about what exactly happened. How deeply did he feel for her, in them? How much did she? Could something like that even work? If he really did lo..._like_ her—in those lives—what would he do if she were killed and tortured, by his own _parents_?

"Back to the life path we witnessed today," Itachi spoke up suddenly, and Draco was brought out of his somewhat embarrassing thoughts, "In your fifth year, you dropped out of Quidditch so you could become Mr. Lee Jordan's... apprentice, for lack of a better word. You helped announce the game plays, and were planning to take over once Mr. Jordan left Hogwarts. He actually left early at around January due to an incident with the Weasley Twins and Professor Umbridge, so you were going to be put to the test at the next game as the solo announcer."

"Ah, I see." Nodding as he looked at his walking feet, he waited for the other fifteen year old to continue, but when he spoke, it was just to say,

"Thank you for escorting me to my room, Mr. Malfoy, but I am certain I can make it from here. Mr. Filtch should still be aware of your detention, and shouldn't stop you." Itachi tapped the door they came to with his wand, and a clicking sounded in the deserted hall.

"Hey, wait," Draco grabbed Itachi's sleeve, stopping him from going into his room. "What happened after Jordan left? Did I do well in announcing the game?" The next game would have happened before he turned 16, so surely the Professor knew.

Itachi shrugged carelessly, standing in his entrance, a hand on his door handle, "There were no more games; Professor Umbridge canceled them all in her crazed dictatorship." He looked pointedly towards his arm, where Draco still had a handful of cloth.

But the blond boy just blinked, realizing something, and clutched tighter at Itachi's robe, "...What aren't you telling me about the Other Life?"

There was a timeless pause, the words hanging in the air between them.

Itachi, and inch or two shorter then the blond, slowly looked up at him—silently, evaluating, debating whether to answer or not. He shifted slightly, tilting his head ever so faintly to the side. "Just after your O.W.L testing..." He began lowly, almost hesitant, "There was... an incident, down at the Ministry of Magic. You, naturally, went along with Mr. Harry, Ms. Hermione, Mr. Ronald, and a few other students to prevent... something from occurring. While there, Voldemort himself appeared, along with quite a few Death Eaters—your Father included. You got to your father, and begged them to stop, to stop following the Dark Lord. He called you a blood traitor, but you kept asking him to cease. It was working well enough to distract him, possibly it would have been long enough for the Ministry to come and detain him, thus prevent him from attacking your friends who were otherwise engaged with other Death Eaters. You said, quite clearly, 'Please, Father, don't attack my friends, don't attack anybody. I won't allow you to! They are more my family then you are, they were there for me every day since I was born, instead of rotting in a prison for an insane Dark Wizard. If you try to hurt them, I'll stop you. I swear it.'" Draco took a breath, anticipation riding high in his chest.

"And before anything else could happen, you were killed by your aunt Bellatrix, from behind."

**XXXXX**

Merry Christmas. I hope you liked the kinda past of Itachi; the next few chapters will be heavy in that. And it'll be my new years resolution to finish this story. Lets see if I can manage?


	14. Chapter 14 : A Change in Direction

**XXXXX**

"So, Itachi-kun," Cat said, his arms tucked behind his head as he walked down the street, "do you want to do the report now, or wait until tomorrow or something?"

"I've already completed the summarized account of what transpired during the mission and am sound in both mind and body, thus delaying would be most unreasonable, if not treasonous."

"And there went my hope that you had developed your conversation skills," Kakashi intoned forlornly, walking alongside the ANBU team. Humor licked at his expression. "I had seen such potential while we traveled here, too..." He said dramatically, sniffling a bit.

"It is your own fault for fostering such implausible desires to begin with." Itachi kept his voice neutral and his face blank, carefully uncaring. He tactfully ignored how his teammates shared wry smirks between them.

"Eh, I like to think of it as an 'unattainable dream'." He smirked, before turning to look at his young friend. "Regardless, I must take my leave. You have much catching up to do with your team, and I saw you only a few months ago. It was enough to tide me over for a while, but do you need me to stay?" He waggled his eyebrows. "To hold your hand, or carry your luggage, Itachi-waitchi?"

Itachi glared, bristling at the hated nickname. "I rue the day that you met the Weasley twins," he hissed venomously. However, underneath the underneath, he was gladdened at the offer his old teacher gave him, to stick by for Itachi to adjust back into the ninja village, this time with all the emotions of one befitting his age. But he was no mere child, lost in the wide world for the first time, so the offer was declined. "Now go, you smelly dog, before I turn you into one." He positioned his hand over the pouch where the cherry wood wand was kept, threateningly.

Backing off with exaggerated pleading motions, the scarecrow ninja walked off in the general direction of his apartment, his nose already buried into his orange book.

"So, off to the Tower it is then," Yuu nodded decisively, as if it was upon his own order they were dealing on. His nose rose somewhat in a theatrically snooty manner, and he began to strut as he walked, leading the group. He probably would have maintained this airs all the way, had it not been for Dragon smacking him soundly on the back of his head.

Surprisingly, to Itachi, she didn't add a sharp comment to her violence, as had always been common before he left. He focused his attention to the pair, intently interested on how this familiar occurrence had changed in his absence.

Yuu yelped in surprised pain at the injury, and he turned a pouting, watery-eyed stare onto Shiina. The woman in question just snorted in disgust, rolling her eyes and turning away from the hurt puppy-dog look.

Cat, however, wasn't deterred. Focusing the whole of his attentions on the female member of the party, he shamelessly flirted and teased, getting right up into her personal space. Instead of turning him into a red smear on the concrete—which Itachi knew for certain she could do, if she ever caught the ninjutsu specialist—she just returned his comments with snarky ones, accompanied by much exasperations and snorts. When a particularly brash remark came, she actually blushed and shoved him away, but not hard enough to send him stumbling and tripping.

Itachi was fascinated.

"Amazing, isn't it," Hawk said, to Itachi's right. "How much they changed since you've been gone."

Itachi nodded slowly, "How long have they been like this?"

"Oh, depends. They came together for the first time three months after you left. It wasn't something either of them were expecting or accepting of at the time, so they ignored one another for the next month and a half—you have no idea how bothersome that was during missions and training sessions. However, once they finally accepted it, the relationship was rocky at best. They broke up after only a handful of weeks, but their relationship smoothed out over the course of the next month or so, until it finally progressed back into dating, and such it has remained since."

"Ah, I see." Itachi paused a moment, not moving his gaze, then silently he raised his palm to his tactical expert. Hiaji sighed before fishing out his wallet.

"I had hoped you'd forgotten," he remorse said in remorse as he placed the total amount of the betting pool into his Captain's hand, as it had been his duty to keep track of it.

"_'Grudges and vengeance may be lost to the wind, but money owed is money due._'"

The Hyuuga smiled humorously, "I never knew you were one to quote the 'great' Nidaime Kazekage." The very Kage who was disowned upon being found wearing a dress and makeup and entertaining... interesting guests.

"_'Even a stone jutsu can find its use while one is out on the ocean,_'" Itachi quoted airily, this time from the much gruffer Sandaime Kazekage, who brutally overthrew the Nidaime to get the position. However, it was rumored that he, too, went to the Nidaime party's.

Hawk laughed.

Soon enough, they were finally upon the Hokage tower. It looked exactly the same as when Itachi had left over nine months previous, and looking upon it, he suddenly let out a breath he didn't know he had held. It was over; he was back in Konoha. There was to be would be no more wizards; no more moving staircases; no more ghosts, werewolves, living pictures, flying sports equipment, rats that transformed into men, potions, or crystal balls. They were gone, and he was home.

Home.

For the first time in all that he could remember, he felt as if he could legitimately use the word. The knowledge left him almost breathless, and almost scared. He knew he shouldn't be so deeply affected by such a thing, a mere word, but he couldn't truly shake the feeling.

Before he knew it, he was standing before the Sandaime, at attention, and was delivering his report. His team stood behind him in exactly similar identical poses, masks carefully placed over their faces. Sasuke, though not required to do so, was mimicking his brother, standing at his left side, and answering the questions asked of him to his best ability.

As his body and mouth dealt with the somewhat lengthy summary of the occurrences during the mission, so that the Hokage can deal with the much longer detailed scroll at urgency rather than be immediately swamped by it out of necessity to finish off the operation the necessity of finishing off the operation, Itachi's thoughts wandered to the differences and similarities the old wizard and the old ninja had in common.

The thing they had most in common was the strange reverence each of them evoked for their kind, grandfatherly ways. Both of them could be trusted to love and protect your children for a night, if not longer. Both of them expressed aged, time-tried and true abilities of large proportions. Both of them, despite their age, dealt with life with a keen and firm mind, set to the greater good of their chosen residence.

And yet, they were not carbon copies of the other. Dumbledore, for one, would not even think about taking 'children from their mother's teat' and teaching them how to kill and destroy. Sandaime, however, would not even think of sending his forces out into war without the necessary training. The wizard thought the war should be fought only by those old enough to know the entirety of which they dealt with. Sarutobi thought anyone with the ability should fight for those who could not. The Headmaster believed emotion was essential to fighting the darkside. The ninja knew that emotions only hindered a battle.

Itachi would kill Dumbledore before ever touching a hair on the Sandaime. And yet he would first crawl, broken and bleeding, before the Headmaster for refuge rather than Sarutobi.

"...And there were no complications on the way back to Konoha," he finished crisply, completing his brief summary.

"And have you the ending payment?"

Wordlessly, Itachi retrieved the sack from his waist band and tossed it onto the table, making it slide to a perfect stop right before his leader.

The Sandaime looked neither nervous nor impressed with the tossing trick like so many wizards would have, and indeed even a genin could perform it without blinking. Casually, he picked up the bag, opened it, and upturned it onto the desk. With a clatter, a barrage of multi-colored jewels spilled across the wooden exterior, dancing away as their perfectly cut exteriors struck the hard surface. No one in the room twitched or moved a muscle as the ninja leader almost absently counted out the jewels. Nodding to himself as he completed the count, Sandaime took out a piece of paper from the left side of his drawer, scribbled a number on it, marked it with his seal, and handed it to the ninja before him.

"Here is your note for your services, Itachi-kun." He smiled humorously, and shared a joke only the ANBU present would understand, "Don't spend it all in one place."

Bowing sharply at the waist, Itachi took his payment. He tucked the piece of paper down into his vest, pressed up against the flesh of his chest, the safest place for it. After all, it was enough money guaranteed—in cash—to buy a small house.

Then, in time with everyone standing in the room, including his brother, he bowed once more to their leader before sharply turning away and almost marching out of the room. After all, the Hokage was a very busy man and didn't need to waste time on the useless pleasantries civilians partake in.

It was only when they had left the tower, and were walking once again in the sweltering heat, that he realized he had nowhere to go. He had been told that the Uchiha complex was completely shut off to the public since the incident, and though a cleaning had been done of the area, Itachi was intelligent and sensitive enough to realize it was best if he and his brother avoided the complex, at least for now. He had not been given an apartment—such was only done so if the ninja returning in question's previous residence had been destroyed, and there were no other alternatives. The Uchiha complex, while uninhabitable to any sane person, still qualified as a livable by Konoha's council, so such was not provided. So, that left picking a hotel and moving in until an apartment or home could be found. But where to go?

However, his team stepped up immediately and offered a solution. "Come on, Itachi. We've set up a Welcome Home party at my house. Free drinks and food already there for everyone," Cat said, beginning to walk in the direction of his apartment.

Grateful for the destination, Itachi began following with nary a pause, planning on asking with the intent of asking to borrow the phone to reserve some rooms at a hotel later. He did, however, eye his team suspiciously. "Presumptuous. What would you have done with everything had I been the cold bastard I was before?"

Looking momentarily shocked by the admission from his leader, Yuu smirked almost hesitantly. "Turned it into a 'Why Does Itachi Hate Us?' party, of course."

Itachi shook his head, but couldn't help the small tug of his lips. Merlin, how he missed his home.

Soon, everyone was in the spacious bachelor's pad that was Yuu's home. Located on the upper corner of an apartment duplex, it had a wonderful view of the wall belonging to the neighboring building. However, some 'unknown' person had taken it upon themselves to graffiti the wall to resemble a beautiful view of a beach. The fact that it was best viewed from Cat's two-wall sliding glass door patio was completely disregarded.

They could never prove it, anyway.

So, regardless of random acts of vandalism on the part of the apartment owner, the place had been set up for a perfect Welcome Home slash Why Does Itachi Hate Us party. There was food, balloons, decorations, party favors, drinks, and a large stash of very expensive sake, chilling in the freezer.

Having never been beyond the entryway, Itachi was given a brief tour of the place along with his brother. Brief, meaning they stood in the living room while Cat pointed to various things, including the rooms down the hall. Dragon, being the only girl in the room, rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously derogatory towards the male psyche.

But, nevertheless, the 'tour' was completed with no further hassle or wasted effort, and the party began. Drinks were served, music was turned on, food was dug into, and the game console was started up with a monotypic fighting game—Sasuke promptly took it over and began ascending levels, oblivious to the world around him. However, the rest of the group munched on some wonderfully fresh sushi Itachi had missed so much, and during the meal, a surprise was brought out.

"Happy Birthday, Itachi-kun!" his team yelled happily, revealing the frosted cake. Itachi nearly choked on the sashimi he was eating.

"I beg your pardon?" he choked out; hand on his chest to help force down the tuna in the correct pipe.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten!" Yuu cried teasingly, before a settling of humiliation came over his features, "...Or, crap, did we get the wrong day? June the ninth, right?"

Clearing his throat, now fish free, Itachi almost tiredly replied, "Yes, it is."

"Then all's good and done! Man, I was worried there, for a second. That'd be embarrassing."

Itachi frowned, "But today is only the third."

Hiaji frowned right back from his spot across the table. "I assure you, Itachi, that today is the ninth." It was unlike the leader he knew to lose track of the date over a few measly days of travel. Just how much had that foreign school affected him?

"Hm." Blinking, Itachi fingered his lower lip as he counted back to the start of Hogwarts School year. "I was away from Konoha exactly 279 days. My mission started on September first. Even allotting for the twenty-four hour period it took to reach my destination, to this date, it would only be June the third."

His team was quiet for a moment, each exchanging a glance. Hiaji's frowned turned inward as he, too, counted back the days. "...Yes, it has been 279 days exactly." His face softened back to its normal serenity and he turned back to his captain, "However, today is undoubtedly the ninth, and so your mission must have started on August the twenty-sixth." The team, of course, had not been told of their leader's semi-permanent departure until well after the fact, when they were assigned to patrol under a stand-in member.

Itachi's brows furrowed slightly, "No, I assure you, it started on September first. At Hogwarts, it is tradition to start the school year on the first, no matter what day that is, so I am certain of the date."

"Well," Shiina spoke up from her spot, munching on some chips and dip, "are you sure the dates are the same in both places? I mean, six days isn't a lot of difference, and who knows how backwards those foreigners are."

Both blinking owlishly, Hiaji and Itachi turned and smirked over at one another, almost embarrassed, but taking note of the humor. The simplest answer is most often the correct one, went the English saying.

So, the newly realized new fourteen year old recieved a slice of cake after he diligently blew out the 'magically appearing' candles. It wasn't too bad, he had to admit. Must have been another professional buy—or a box cake—since none of his team had any skills in baking, and it was quite good.

Eventually, everyone either finished before making their way to the couch, or grabbed some more to take with them (coughYuucough). After a few rounds of watching the surprisingly adept preteen punch and kick his way through various opponents, a slight argument between Yuu and Shiina over the correct way to throw someone against the ring's walling after slamming them onto the ground, a contest was set up.

Surprisingly, to himself at least, Itachi wasn't the best at the game, or even second. That coveted spot went to Shiina, then Yuu. Itachi came next, followed by Sasuke, and Hiaji brought up the confused end. No matter how many games the eldest watched, or played, he never could seemingly hit the right buttons at the right time to get his desired affects, and it left him in a state of bewilderment. Hyuuga were, after all, the masters of finger movements and hand-eye coordination required for the Gentle Fist style. Thankfully, at least the calmness that went hand in hand with the Byakugan bloodline never left Hawk's person...

"ARGH!" ...Or maybe not.

"Haha! You can't beat me, you can't beat me, nah-nah-nah!" Sasuke cheered in triumph once again. He was ecstatic over beating one of his brother's ANBU teammates so badly, and he relished the feeling.

"Sasuke-chan," Hiaji turned a slightly madly gleaming eye on the youngest in the room, "I challenge you to another match."

"Again?" Surely, after the sixth time, you'd think he'd just give up already.

The gleam glittered almost dangerously. "Yes."

"Er, ok." Apparently not. Oh well. "Prepare to have your butt beat again!"

"I assure you, it will not be like that," The controller in his hands creaked ominously as his grip tightened.

Itachi, from his seat on the plush leather chair, gave a small sigh as he continued to watch his tactician expert get his ass handed back to him by a nine year old. Well, it was a good mark for his brother, at least. Silently, he watched as Shiina, perched almost precariously on the couch's arm rest, gave occasional pointers for her game-challenged teammate.

Yuu, leaning against the back of Itachi's chair, smirked at the sight. "I can just see the Hyuuga clan's reaction to their precious ANBU member getting trumped by an Academy student."

Itachi nodded slightly in agreement.

"Hope he doesn't break my game controller, though."

"Hn."

"If he does, he buys me a new one, dammit."

They stayed in companionable silence for a while, each thinking along their own lines of thought. Then, seemingly randomly at random, Yuu spoke up again. "You do realize you and Sasuke can stay here for as long as you need. Or, if you'd prefer, you can bunk with Shiina or Mr. Frustrated over there. But, as she hasn't seen her floor in over three months, and he lives with his entire extended family in a single building, my place is probably the best choice."

Ironically, the youngest recorded ANBU captain had been contemplating just which long-term residential hotels would be best to stay at until a house or apartment could be secured for permanent use. Silently, he turned to see Yuu still watching the other team members bicker, not looking at him. Itachi followed the gaze and silently viewed those he was in charge of, for some reason surprised by the offer.

"Yes," he finally replied, just as Hiaji lost—again—and stood up, challenging the smirking child again. "That is the best choice."

Yuu looked down at him then, grinning a Cheshire grin. Itachi returned his smile with one of his own, and then they turned back to their teammates once more.

**XXXXX**

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

The door had shut with an echoing click, he was certain. Draco wasn't too sure what happened after that, but the next thing he knew, he was staring up at his ceiling, watching the light of predawn crawl across the roof from the high, tiny window his dorm room had. He had stayed up the entire night, his body ached for sleep, but he wasn't tired. He couldn't fall asleep. His mind was both racing with thoughts, and curiously still, as if all activity was covered by a thick, protective blanket. Occasionally a thought would peak through, but it'd not last more than heartbeat before being washed away by the general muddiness.

"Er, M-Malfoy?" A voice stuttered next to his ear, and he turned to see a nervous looking third year there, poking through his partially open curtain. He blinked at the small tanned boy, all dark, mousy brown hair and big glasses, and remembered that he had been chosen to be the 'honored' morning alarm for Draco again. He was a geek—a foreigner, stuttered so much he was barely understandable, was smaller than most, and was almost never seen without a book plopped open in his lap. He was always up early, and no one important really liked him all that much, so he was continuously picked for the alarm.

"Yeah?" His voice was almost a croak, gravely tumbling past his lips. For the life of him, he couldn't remember this child's name, and yet he had been awoken by him almost since he was assigned to help with the Thestrals in place of his _Care Of_ class.

"I-It's t-time to ge-ge-get up." Edward? Eliz? Edison? It had to be something with an E...

He cleared his throat, mindful not to wake his dorm mates—not that he could overcome their combined snores. "What's your name?"

"B-Brian Wh-Wh-Whitehorse," he stuttered, surprised at the question.

"Oh." He was wrong about his name, and oddly he felt depressed over it. He cleared his throat again, "Well, thanks for waking me." Regardless, he laboriously sat up on his bed, and realized he had spent the entire night in his school uniform, on top of the covers.

"Whitehorse," he suddenly called before the small boy could escape through the door on the opposite side of the room.

Freezing like a mouse caught in the plain sight of a cat, Brian slowly turned back around. "Y-Yes, M-M-Malfoy?"

"Why are you always up so early?" Draco eased his legs over the side of his bed, placing his socked-feet against the cold stone.

Eyes impossibly wide, magnified by the glasses he wore, he stared in complete shock at the prefect. "M-My family are f-f-farmers. I-I'm use to it."

"What do you do, after you've gotten me up?"

Wary of the sudden conversation after so long of nothing but terse curses and gruff commands, he kept a hand on the door, in case he needed to flee in an instant. "N-Normally I just s-sit an-and read. S-sometimes I-I do homework."

On impulse, without even a conscious thought, Draco asked, "Would you like to come with me to help with the Thestrals instead?"

Somehow, the eyes grew in size. "R-Really?!" he nearly whispered, his voice filled with excitement.

He shrugged, surprised but not upset for his random request. "Yeah, sure."

"S-Sure I will!" the boy gasped, suddenly much closer and almost vibrating with anticipation. "M-My family raises m-magical horses! W-We came h-h-here because we c-c-couldn't get a U-U-Unicorn l-license in A-America. W-We t-t-try to ge-get all the m-magical horses kn-known, b-b-but we've ne-never had a Th-Thestral b-before!"

"Well, go get ready, and I'll meet you in the common room. You'll need an older robe, because it can get—" Draco blinked at the child-sized white cloud that remained where Brian once stood, "—messy." He sighed and stood, going to his trunk to get his work clothes. He didn't know why he suddenly invited the Little Mouse to his chore. He wasn't even sure if it was allowed. In fact, he could get into trouble for it—trying to 'pass off' his task onto someone else. The kid was weird, stuttered, and slept with a... a 'Dream Latcher' above his bed, or whatever they were called. He grumbled quietly to himself as he stomped on his work boots.

And, for no apparent reason at all, he started to laugh softly.

**XXXXX**

****So here you all go; take this, dead-fic!


	15. Chapter 15 : Meetings and Revelations

"Ah, Mr. Itachi, how good to see you again," the old, gnarled man spoke in his croaky voice, his eyes—both of them—fixed on the young ninja. "How have you been?"

"Mr. Moody," Itachi inclined his head in both respect and greeting. This man, if there ever was a wizard as such, was a ninja at heart... "I am particularly well today. Any new Dark Wizards on your end?"

"Besides the one before me, no." ...Suspicious of _everyone._

"I asked for 'new' Dark Wizards, Mr. Moody." Itachi smiled his smile, not as cool as normally shown in these meetings—if it ever made its appearance in the first place.

"HA!" The frequently dubbed 'Mad Eye' suddenly cried in triumph, instantly pointing his wand towards the Professor. "You admitted it, to being a wizard of the Dark! Finally, I caught you!"

"No, I didn't," he chuckled almost darkly, not even glancing at the wood. "But you've accused me so much that I no longer qualify as new, regardless."

A moment or two passed before the Auror dropped his 'threat'—as if a stick, magical or not, could be a threat to a ninja such as Itachi—and smiled a grim smile. "Always a right slippery one, aren't you?"

"Ninja are always the best, Mr. Moody," he dismissed, easily weaving his way to his chosen seat for the night. It came as no surprise and to with no protest as when the old man sat next to him, taking a quick drink from his ever present silver hip-flask. Since their initial meeting, they had both willfully pitted themselves against the other one another. To the others present in the initial meeting, when Itachi had been introduced, it appeared as if they just looked at each other. Then, as people were beginning to leave, Moody stood, approached, and blatantly accused Itachi of being a Dark Wizard. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and watched, for both curious both in curiosity of how the new person would react and in suspicion as to why such a war-wizened old Auror would accuse him of such. Itachi calmly looked at him, and then stood up with all the grace his former profession afforded him. He simply titled his head slightly to the side, staring directly into the electric blue eye with nothing more than a hint of curiosity, and said, "I am no Wizard," before he disappeared in a white flash.

As they had been within the old Grimmauld place, somewhere fortified against Apparition, this came as a very high shock to everyone. Mad Eye Moody nearly gave himself a heart attack, his blue eye whizzing every which way possible as he shouted obscenities while searching for the young ninja, his wand drawn. Only when the eye stuck, staring at the area around the back of his left foot, did he calm down enough for Dumbledore to explain about Itachi's... odd abilities. Still, the next meeting the old wizard appeared at, he immediately took a place next to Itachi and began a terse 'conversation,' which was an interrogation by another name. His wand, while not in plain sight, was gripped tightly and never strayed from its target.

Itachi, for his part, answered every question evasively, with obvious ease and calm. Every time Moody had felt he had finally asked the question the boy could not get around, he somehow did. It was extremely frustrating, yet oddly exhilarating. By the time the meeting started, the question/answer session had turned into somewhat of a game. A dangerous game, but a game nonetheless.

The next meeting in which they both attended, Moody had slipped some various drugs into the boy's food. Truth serum being the most important, but also a few others to counter effect the dazed one of Veritaserum, so the boy wouldn't realize what was happening until too late. However, much to his surprise and frustration, every bit of food and drink that had been drugged was carefully avoided. It was almost as if he could somehow sense where they were, but Moody knew for certain that he couldn't; after all, the old Auror himself had fallen for this trick once. That's why he had his hip-flask with him at all points, and always checked his food for even the most obscure potions before even thinking of touching it.

But the child—the mere child!—nibbled and picked at everything _but_ the tainted food. Angry at himself for failing somehow, he tore into his thrice-checked meat, eating with his wary slobbering as usual. "How's the weather, Moody?" the self-called proclaimed 'ninja' asked him, shortly into the meal. Mad Eye grunted that the weather had been a bit off lately, with the sudden storm and all, but what was new? "I see. Do you think it will clear up soon?" Mad Eye glanced at the Asian with his non-magical eye (his magical eye was constantly fixed upon him) and nibbled on his thrice-checked carrots, saying how he knew it wouldn't, though he hoped it did. "What made you think I was a Dark Wizard?"

Mad Eye scoffed, not about to let this boy learn of his hard-earned Auror deductive techniques. "My pocket sneakoscope went off around you."

His fork had clanged loudly on his plate, his eyes widening. He jerked his head around to stare at the boy eating a small piece of certainly tainted meat, chew, and then swallow before turning to Moody, lighting flashing silently, ominously, in the background. "I think the weather will clear up today, personally," he said with that evil small smirk of his, the low rumbles of the thunder accentuating his words. The gnarled old man glared, rubbing his wand longingly. Bastard switched their plates, right under Mad Eye's nose and—more importantly—under his eye.

Sure, Moody had to write down every answer to the questions asked of him before saying what he really intended to say—a loophole in his potions he concocted just for an instance as this—but he couldn't help but be proud of the ninja for such a sound, subtle trumping. Angry, yes, but a twisted proud.

"Alright, everyone, order, order," Dumbledore called, and the meeting members settled down into their seats. As this one was situated at tea time, there were only a few plates of crackers and tea kettles rather than a full meal. Itachi, as had been standard since the disastrous meeting between him and the Weasley Matron, did not have plate or cup placed before him. The two had resolved to leave the other alone, treating one another with polite distance if they were forced to interact. An agreement had come into place; Itachi was welcome to a plate or a cup if he so chose, but he wouldn't be given one if he did not himself grab it and no one would try to undermine his position at the council. Molly was left alone when she prepared and served the meals and tea, and was not questioned when she settled down to sit through the meeting, regardless of her lack of any practical use.

Reports were made, and not much had changed since the last meeting. This was both calming, and worrying. While they were thankful that there hadn't been much Dark development, it didn't make sense for them to be so slow after their initial startup. They had either hit a snag, or something was up. Hope went for the former, experience told the latter.

"Let us move on to more important matters," The old man said once Itachi finished his—nearly unchanging and extremely brief—report. "I have come up with a theory of where the Horcruxes would be located." He smiled, and Itachi could hear relieved sighs all around. But he knew better, and knew that they had problem of identifying and destroying them before they could relax. "I've also confirmed that there are six—" Itachi blinked, and knew that the Headmaster was lying; the headmaster's nose twitched slightly every time he lied. But why would he lie about the number? "—separate Horcruxes, the seventh fraction being Voldemort himself.

"Now we just need to locate them. However, thankfully we have actually already destroyed at least one of these, one in the form of a Diary used by Voldemort in his youth just under three years ago. It was destroyed by Basilisk venom, one of two known ways to destroy a Horcrux—the other is by fiendfyre, which no one wishes to cast unless they want to destroy everything within the surrounding area, including themselves, I'm sure." He smiled a mirthful smile, which the rest of the Order hesitantly returned. Itachi remained blank faced.

"I don't think it's necessary, but I will point out the fact that Basilisk venom is horribly expensive and just as difficult to come by. Even if we do manage to locate some, it's not going to be a noteworthy bit we can wantonly toss onto anything we think might be a Horcrux," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, a little gruffly. He seemed a little more haggard than usual, but taking in respect his report, it was understandable. "And that's discounting the required storing device we'd need to contain the venom as well."

There was a moment or two of general murmurings before someone spoke up. "I believe I have a solution for this."

"Don't tell me the werewolf just so happens to have a pint or two stored under his bed," Severus drawled sarcastically, with a pointed look towards the patchwork robes Lupin wore. "Saving for a rainy day?"

Remus gave an exasperated look, "No, what I was going to say was that all we need would be just a little bit of venom, and a goblin weapon. It's common knowledge that goblin weapons absorb anything they come into contact with, and then turn it to their own abilities."

"In fact," Black spoke up from his spot, a wicked smirk spreading across his features. He stared hard at Severus, though he was speaking more towards the Headmaster, "Didn't Harry kill a basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor—a _goblin_ weapon—at the end of his second year?"

Had Itachi been drinking anything at the time, he would have choked slightly. Brows furrowed he looked around at the surrounding members, noting how none of them were surprised at the revelation. He smoldered a bit, resenting how no one told him anything about what astonishing feats Harry managed in his school career, including Harry himself. Knowing the boy had eliminated a giant mythical snake capable of killing by mere eye contact when he was twelve was important information. Making a mental note to corner the Gryffindor and get all the details about anything of importance, Itachi returned his focus to the conversation—in case any other 'enlightening' remarks were made.

"Thank you, Black, Lupin. Once we have discovered another Horcrux, we will have to test this theory. Sybill, please make a note to cross off the Sword of Gryffindor from the possible Goblin Trade list. Now, onto another matter."

"Any more leads to what the cursed items are?" Moody growled from his spot, his gnarled hand fingering his wand absently.

"No leads, only suspicions, I'm afraid."

"And those are?" He prompted again.

"Well," Dumbledore coughed a bit, "we all know that Voldemort is a bit—"

"Egotistical?"

"Full of himself?"

"Homicidal?"

"Off his rocker?"

"Conniving?"

"Evil?"

"Slytherin?"

"When is_ that_ adjacent to being evil?"

"Since _ever_."

Black and Snape were ignored as they went off into another bickering row.

Dumbledore smiled at the ever so helpful remarks from the various gathered members, "Yes, yes, he is all of those. Now, using that knowledge to our advantage, we can deduct a few things regarding the horcruxes. One is that he would never make a common object into one. Something would be 'important' if it is to hold his soul, or something that hold substantial value to Voldemort personally, preferably both. Another thing is that he probably would have one of these kept close to him at all times; to be certain that if anything ever happened to the others, he still would retain his immortality. And given that the Diary was originally in the possession of the Malfoys, we can logically assume the most important members of Voldemort's inner circle have one to keep. Also given that the Malfoys had, erm," his gaze lingered a bit on the two suddenly grim-looking Weasleys present. Itachi took note, "...removed the item in question away from their possession, they probably do not know of the true value of the objects. This will give us some room to maneuver in our search, and have a limited field of which to explore. Now, to determine who has the items, and _what_ exactly they are."

As one, the entire room looked to Severus. He, however, just sneered at them. "While I was, and am, in the inner circle, and the Potion's Master of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, my lack of family wealth and pureblood status kept me from receiving any particular favors. The Dark Lord never gave me anything other than an order, or a Cruciatus Curse."

The eyes in the room shifted somewhat nervously at the casual mention of minion torture, before settling on Sirius. He, too, sneered, but rather than in an insulting manner towards the 'lesser mortals' around him, he did so at his family ancestry—the Black Line. "My good-for-nothing brother, while alive, was up there in the circle, last I bothered to check, so there might have been something given to the Black family—it'd either be in the house, or in the vaults. My cousins also are up there, so they'd be good places to check. Not so much Malfoy, as she married the pompous git who got the Diary. Snake-face wouldn't have entrusted two onto a single supporting family. Too paranoid for that."

Remus frowned slightly. "Didn't you clean out and get rid of all the dark artifacts when you took possession of the estate?"

Black nodded somewhat glumly, "Yes. However, most had a protection charm on them against damage, as well as an antitheft one where they'd just come back to the house if removed off Black property. I also didn't want most of the dark items to go back into the general population, which is what the idiot ministry would have done, so I just sent the lot of it to the vaults in Gringotts. If the Blacks were _graced_," he made the word seem like a synonym for the plague, "with a piece of Snake-Face's soul, it'd be there. Hey," he said, a somewhat mad gleam in his eye, "Kretcher went with the lot, supposedly because he was still loyal to my mother's picture. You think he's the piece? Even if he's not, can we destroy him, too, just in case?"

Lupin shook his head at him and remarked, "You are unusually cruel to poor Kretcher."

Black scowled, somewhat defensively, "If you met the waste that is the house elf before I made him leave, you'd agree; he'd gotten worse in the years this place was abandoned. The thing's greatest ambition was to have its head chopped off and mounted on the wall, like its ancestors."

Itachi said nothing, merely watching him from his seat. House Elves were defined as magical creatures, and as he enjoyed magical creatures as a whole, he knew a bit about them. He eyed the man sitting across from him a little more closely—just how bad were his family, to twist their elves in such a fashion? And you cannot gain rose water from sewage waste, so just how stable was Sirius?

"Alright, then," Dumbledore said. "Sirius, if you'd be so kind, please to go to your vaults and search for anything that would possibly be the Horcrux. Then contact me, and we can go from there."

"Certainly, Headmaster." The dog animagi grinned.

"Now, onto—"

"Excuse me," Itachi interjected, and everyone focused on him for the first time since his report. Itachi rarely spoke during any meeting, so people had a tendency to be slightly surprised and cautious when he chose to do so. "But I would like to accompany Mr. Black to his vaults. I believe I would be an asset to the search."

Sirius shrugged from his spot; after all, it was because of the ninja he even went free to begin with, so he owed him this at least. "Sure, I don't m—"

"Why?" Moody barked from his spot, intercepting the conversation, his glare focused on the fifteen-year-old.

The former ANBU turned to focus on the former Auror. "Because two sets of eyes are better than one, and this is a completely controlled environment where I can not only use my abilities to their farthest extent if I so wish, but have no fear of being discovered by Voldemort's supporters."

The wizard scoffed, rubbing his wand that was 'coincidentally' pointing towards the ninja. "Oh, please, Mr. Itachi. There's another reason than that, and we both know it."

Itachi sighed slightly as everyone's eyes turned towards him again. "Perceptive, Mr. Moody." He smiled in a practiced innocent way, accentuating his few remaining child features, knowing it would only unnerve the old wizard. "I admit I do have an alternate desire than to what I've just stated."

Moody was instantly on his feet, his wand tip glowing as he pointed it directly in Itachi's face. His face crumpled into a wicked-looking snarl, the electric blue eye trembling in its socket as it stared at the young ninja. "I knew you'd show your true colors eventually, Mr. Itachi. If you come quietly, I'll make your death relatively quick and painless."

Deciding on a whim to play with the old wizard, Itachi choose to respond in a slight chuckle, almost a giggle. He tapped his lips with the end of his clasped hands, as if trying to hide his mirth. "Mr. Moody, you shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. My main reason to accompany Mr. Black is because I am a fan of all magical creatures, and Mr. Black has already stated his desire to harm a simple house elf. Even if it is legally within his right to do so, I do not enjoy the abuse of defenseless creatures. In my presence, he would surely restrain himself."

Flushing, and looking somehow like a strangled doll in the process, Moody dropped his wand, somewhat forcefully. He scowled, loathing the fact that this child was able to toy with him to easily. "I will get you eventually, I swear I will..."

The ninja allowed his black eyes to open once again, his mirth now hidden behind blank indifference, "The question that remains, however." His eyes swirled into the crimson Sharingan, and the air suddenly tensed. "Will you be able to handle what you capture? It is the fool, after all," the eyes slowly morphed into the Mangekyou, and even Moody couldn't completely suppress the shudder that went through him from the sight, "that grabs the tiger by its tail."

Nothing broke the stillness of the room for several moments, the two combatants locked onto one another. Ice blue clashed with the blood red, each abnormal eye evaluating the other. The false eye quivered in its socket excitedly as the Sharingan spun lazily.

Dumbledore, the only one in the room besides the ninja himself to know the true abilities of the bloodline, quickly stepped in, grabbing Moody by the shoulders as he forcefully broke their gazes. "Alastor," he said, as the tension in the air broke from his words, "I understand your worry about Mr. Itachi. But, I assure you in all honestly, whatever faults Mr. Itachi may have, he is not a Dark wizard, nor ever will be one. Mr. Itachi is here to help the order take down Voldemort, and he wouldn't attack anyone unnecessarily. It is not wise to antagonize him, however. Please, sit down and calm down, my old friend."

With that, the gnarled old man was pushed back into his chair, his wand hidden once more into within his robes. However, his eyes never moved from their target.

Itachi, however, had completely dismissed the old wizard, and was currently putting his many layers of outer clothing back on. The only thing that gave away his mood was the fact his eyes were still as red as blood, even if they had reverted to the Sharingan. "Mr. Black," he said as he tightened his gloves on, "Please send an owl with the appropriate time in which you want to visit your vaults." His gloves finished, he put on his wool hat, to better stave off the cold. "If that will be all, I will see you anon. Good day." So he bowed to his employer, bowed to the room, and left in a swirl of his black cloak.

No one stopped him.

**XXXXX**

Outside the old Grimmauld place, Itachi breathed silently into the chilled air, walking without noise down the crumbling stoop. He continued to walk in silence for a while, aimlessly, until he was out of sight of the Order's hidden building, and had just past the yellow glow of a street lamp. There, he found himself a little darkened nook between two houses, the perfect place for him to settle to sort out his thoughts without being noticed by any who would pass him by.

He really should not have acted like that. In fact, he had no idea why he did. He had purposefully baited Moody, and then had risen to the old Auror's own bait. That was not how he, an ANBU captain, an _Uchiha_, acted. That was how a spoiled ninja-child acted, drunk on their own ability; a teenager battling with their own changing hormones. He was anything but that.

...Wasn't he?

Itachi sighed, leaning back into the bitterly frozen stonework of the building. The cold was seeping up from the stone, through his clothes, and into his very bones already. He hated the chill, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He deserved it, after acting the way he did. He closed his eyes and cursed himself silently; he should have known better.

While he was somewhat astonished at the body that suddenly took up residence next to him, he made no movement or sound to acknowledge the presence. He wasn't necessarily surprised that the other was there; it was in his nature to be after all, moreover the fact that he was able to find him without casting any spells. True, he wasn't exactly trying to stay hidden—if he was, he'd be nigh impossible to find—but still, hiding away in a darkened little nook was what ninja did best. He should be practically invisible.

Well, considering the other's nature again, it wasn't doubtful that he had sniffed him out.

"Mr. Lupin," Itachi spoke first, but didn't bother opening his eyes.

"Mr. Itachi," Remus replied quietly. They sat in silence for a few more moments, neither breaking the calm they shared. However, both of them knew that the old werewolf hadn't left the assumingly incomplete meeting for some companionship. And Itachi, while fully admitting that he shouldn't have acted like he had, he was not about to apologize for it.

"I apologize for my behavior, Mr. Lupin." ...Or maybe he was. "It was wrong of me to act like I had."

Remus smiled. "Well, that was easy. Here I was expecting to have a long, meaningful discussion first."

"Hn,"

They sat in silence for a moment, a breath of time, the night air crisp and cold around them. There were a few moths fluttering around the glow of the lamp, mindlessly throwing themselves at the light, and both of the men watched them without comment.

The silence, however, was not to last, "Mr. Itachi, I'm worried about—" Lupin began.

"Don't be," Itachi cut him off, keeping his voice neutral despite his sudden irritation at the wizard. "I will not allow myself to respond to such bating again. You need not worry." He didn't need another berating when he was already doing so well himself.

"That wasn't what I was getting at," Remus huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Itachi," he said as he turned to the young ninja, "I'm worried about _you_. I don't know the real reason you're back in London, but I know it's not that half-baked reason you've spoon-fed the rest of the Order. I know it's hurtful, and I know you're suffering because of it. I can't help you unless I know the truth. Please, let me help you."

Itachi shifted, somewhat uncomfortable. He really did like Lupin, but that didn't mean he trusted him with his secrets. "I don't know what you're talking about," it was pathetic, even to him, but he had little else to pull up under such scrutiny. The reason given to the Order members was reasonable enough, so it was surprising that he did question Lupin questioned it in first place.

"That's a lie, and you and I both know it." The werewolf frowned, his eyes narrowing. "It's about your brother, isn't it? About why you left—"

"You tread on dangerous ground, wolf." Itachi finally snapped his eyes to the man, and he locked gazes with brown eyes, a bare hint of amber to their depths. "You know not of which you speak."

"Bollocks!" Remus barked, "I know the look of someone running and hiding from their past, and you have it all about you. You abandoned him, didn't you?" Itachi blinked, shocked and mildly horrified at just how much the other figured out about him. "I didn't bring it up before due to my respect of your privacy, but I can't stand by any more. It's affecting more than just yourself now, and we cannot afford that in this delicate time in the War. You're coming apart at the seams! You need someone to help you, whether you like it or not. Why did you come back here to play teacher and dally in the life of a wizard again, when you so obviously are not? You and your brother were nearly inseparable when you were last here, and you spoke of him more than anything else. Now his name has not even passed your lips since you arrived here in the summer. So tell me, why did you forsake your brother?"

Itachi sat in shock for more than a heartbeat or two, almost gaping back at the hard stare he was receiving. He felt trapped, and he had a perverse desire to physically run away from the scrutiny, to hide away from the accusation, but he instantly beat down on such desires. It wouldn't help him in the slightest, and would only serve to make him look childish and foolish.

For one of the few times in his life, Itachi was unable to keep the hard gaze. Instead he chose to look back towards the fluttering, mindless moths. He waited to respond for so long, that the night air took a turn for the worse, and the moths dropped one by one out of the light, frozen motionless in their winter dormancy. But Lupin waited right along with him, unrelenting.

The wolfman would have continued waiting until the sun dawned the sky, too, if need be. Fortunately, that extreme was unnecessary. Itachi, in bare a whisper, told him the reason, the reason he left his one family tie back at his former home. He told him the truth, how it came about, and the options available to him to avoid it. The answer drained Lupin of his color, and he made no move to stop the ninja when Itachi stood, brushed off his clothing, and walked into the darkness. The last words seemed to linger, almost echoing in the night.

"I left him because I did not wish to be the one to have to kill him."

**XXXXX**

Well... The world didn't end? I was kinda hoping for 1k reviews by chapter 14, but I was 17 short. Damn.


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